




















































.( 














LIGHTS and SHADES 


OP 

IRELAND. 


IN THREE PARTS. 


Part. I.—EARLY HISTORY. 

Part II.—SAINTS, KINGS, . AND POETS, OF THE 

EARLY AGES. 

Part III.—THE FAMINE OF 1847 '48 & ' 49 . 


o 



ASENATH NICHOLSON, 

OF NEW YORK. 

* _ 

• » 

15 * t 

• • 

* O 

J 


‘ When their soul was poured out into their mother’s bosom.”—J er. ii. 12. 


“Not e’en in the hour when my heart is most gay, 
Will I lose the remembrance of thee and thy wrongs.’ 



LONDON: 


HOULSTON AND STONE MAN, 

65, PATERNOSTER ROW. 

1850. 




PREFACE. 


The reader of these pages should be told that, if 
strange things are recorded, it was because strange 
things were seen; and if strange things were seen 
which no other writer has written, it was because no 
other writer has visited the same places, under the same 
circumstances. No other writer ever explored moun¬ 
tain and glen for four years, with the same object in 
view; and though I have seen but the suburbs of 
what might be seen, were the same ground to be 
retraced, with the four years' experience for an hand¬ 
maid, yet what is already recorded may appear alto¬ 
gether incongruous, if not impossible. And now, 
while looking at them calmly at a distance, they 
appear, even to myself, more like a dream than reality, 
because they appear out of common course , and out 
of the order of even nature itself. But they are 
realities, and many of them fearful ones —realities 
which none but eye-witnesses can understand, and 



IV 


PREFACE. 


none but those who passed through them can feel. 
No pretensions to infallibility either in judgment or 
description are made—the work is imperfect because 
the writer is so—and no doubt there are facts recorded 
which might better have been left out. In such a 
confused mass of material, of such variety and such 
quality, I am not so vain as to suppose that the best 
has always been selected or recorded in the best way. 
No originality is pretended in the first part: it is 
an imperfect concentration of matter, gathered from 
various authors, with the simple object of placing before 
my own view a summary outline of the causes which 
have from age to age been combining to bring Ireland 
into the state as she now presents herself to the world, 
and that others who, like me, may be in perplexity, 
as I was in the beginning of my travels there, to know 
what she once must have been, and who noiu in this 
condition, may have a few doubts partially removed 
without the difficulty of plodding through intricate 
volumes, to reach the same point. If there are 
statements incorrect I am but a copyist, not pre¬ 
tending to be eye or ear witness of centuries gone by ; 
neither has imagination been called in to magnify 
these statements —present effects spread before the 
vision tell that past causes must have been fearful; 
and to the doubtful, who may write “proof" on the 
margin of these pages, when some barbarous acts 
recorded there may startle them, it is requested that 
they read the sentence passed in the enlightened Bible 
age of 1848, upon Smith O'Brien, that both justice 
and vengeance could not be satisfied with life—- 


PREFACE. 


V 


hanging and beheading ; but let imagination fill the 
remainder of the frightful picture; and if past cruelties 
here recorded are doubted as impossible, come with 
me in the year 1850 and see the houseless wanderer 
dying in mountains and bogs, without food , without 
clothes, driven there by merciless landholders, who 
have fattened on soil wrested from the fathers of 
these exiles. 

If the world is tired of Henry s, Charles’s, James’s, 
Elizabeths, and Cromwells—if these old pages, 
thumbed and “ dog-eared” as they are, have become 
tiresome—mark ! they are but the counterpart of the 
tatters that are fluttering in every breeze in that island; 
they are the honest fathers of these their wayward, 
ill-governed children, and their true pedigree will be 
traced out; all things not only seek their level, but 
return to the right owner, sooner or later. But 
give us a new book, not blotted or blurred with false 
titles, nor besmeared with mud cabins ; let not its 
leaves be either tattered or patched, but a fair stereo¬ 
typed edition, written “ within and without, justice, 
mercy, and good-will. Give us Victoria, with the 
shamrock in one hand, and the scales of justice in 
the other, for the title-page ; and Ormonds, Desmonds, 
and Strongbows shall mingle their ungathered ashes 
with the dust of forgotten ages. 

The Second Part of the work is intended to pre¬ 
sent a few specimens of the <£ Lights of Ireland,” 
when she was mistress of her own land, sung her own 
songs, with a harp of her own, and worshipped her 
own God in temples which her own hands had built, 


VI 


PREFACE. 


when she sat under her own “ vines and fig-trees/' 
with none to make her afraid, and though— 

“ The harp that once through Tara’s halls, 

The soul of music shed, 

Now hangs as mute on Tara’s walls, 

As if that soul was fled. 

Yet let it once more waken 

The sweetness of its slumbering strain.” 

The Third Part is legible, and tells its own story. 
The echo of the mournful wail is still on the ear, the 
cries of the widow and fatherless are still going up, 
and the carcases of the slain are yet unburied. 
Gladly would I have written a more pleasing and 
belter book , but the material was wanting. While 
Ireland remains the same, the same things must be 
written of her; and let him be tired of reading who 
is not willing to do her justice. And in conclusion, 
allow me to add, with hope,— 

“ Erin, Oh, Erin ! thy winter is past, 

And the hope that lived through it shall blossom at last.” 


London, 1850. 


PAGE. 


CONTENTS. 


PART I. 

CHAPTER I. 

Object of the work—General remarks on the condition of Ireland 
before the famine— Coachman’s reasons for murder—Difficul¬ 
ties of writing a correct work on Ireland—Position of the 
writer/&c. ......... 1 


CHAPTER II. 

Preliminaries—First settlement of Ireland—Henry II.—Adrian’s 
bull—Peter pence—Council of Trent—Irish Church—State 
of England — Dermot Macmurchad — Roderic O’Connor— 
Strongbow’s battles—Results—Norman’s armoury—Civil war 
—Protector Henry—Decrees of Cashel—Keepers of the 
Church—Young Prince John—His defeat—Death of Henry— 

J ohn Comyn—Sir J ohn Davis’ statements—Taylor’s state¬ 
ments—English pale—Free blood—Richard, Cour-de-Lion— 

John—Henry III.—Magna Charta—Aristocracy and slavery 
—Edward I., &c. ........ 9 


CHAPTER III. 

Edward—Battle of Bannockburn—Robert Bruce in Carrick- 
• fergus—Fedlim—His success—Bruce defeated—Famine—- 
Bruce killed—Edward III.—Conduct of the English—Irish 
pride—New expedients—Statutes of Kilkenny—Lord Clare’s 
opinion of the laws—Richard II.—-Henry IV.—Black Rent 
—Duke of York—State of the country—Madame Margaret 
—Henry VII.—Brothers of St. George—Laws of 1446— 
Earl of Kildare—Earl of Warwick—New era—Poyning— 
His law—■“ Coyne and livery”—War-cry—Earl of Surrey— 
Extent of English rule in Ireland—Henry VIII.—Character 
and proceedings —Lord Grey —O’Neil of Ulster—New events 
—Edward VI.—Mary—Reflections—Character of the Roman 
Catholics . ........ 




Vlll 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE. 

CHAPTER IV. 

Elizabeth—Her influence and cruelties—Acts of Conformity and 
Supremacy—John O’Neil—His rebellion, and success with 
the Queen—His slaughter by the Scots—Earl of Desmond— 

His character—Lord Grey—Raleigh—Spencer—His advice 
—Elizabeth’s reign over carcasses and ashes—Sir Walter 
Raleigh’s persuasions—John Perrot—Hugh O’Neil—Sir John 
Norris and Lord Burgh—Sir Henry Bagnal—Essex and 
his army—Don Juan d’Aquilla—Mountjoy—Elizabeth’s 
butcheries—Bryan O’Neil—His fate—Evil of Ireland— 
Shrewd Irishman—Remarks.35 

CHAPTER V. 

James—Penal laws—Infringement and punishment—Proclama¬ 
tion of James—Gunpowder plot—Fate of the accused and of 
the natives—Confiscated lands—Irish Society—Land added 
to the crown—Death of James—Charles succeeds—State of 
the press—Wentworth—His palace—Scotch—Stafford exe¬ 
cuted—Death of Wentworth—Parties—Wild Irish—Cha¬ 
racter of O’Moore—Of O’Neil—Conspiracy—Insurrection— 
Charles Coote’s cruelty—Scotch puritans—Irish parliament 
—Lord Justices—Assembly at Swords, at Tara—St. Leger’s 
cruelty—Confiscation of property—Earl of Ormond—His 
commands—Document—Execution of his comrades—Sir 
Philip O’Neil—New penal laws—State of the war—Lord 
Inquichin—Lord Forbes—His depredations—Earl of Antrim 
—Monroe’s treachery—Irish disheartened—Bright spot— 

Civil government—Assembly—Priests and people meet at 
Kilkenny—Resolutions—National Assembly—Object of the 
assembly—Charles suspected—Ormond’s brutality at Cashel 
—English meetings—Scotch in arms—Confederates—Private 
treaty—Public treaty—Pope’s Nuncio—Character—Benburb 
battle—Nuncio pleased—Acts rashly—Ormond flees to Rome 
—Is called back—O’Neil treated as a rebel—The Nuncio 
dies with grief.. . .43 


CHAPTER VI. 

Cromwell—D’Aubigne’s and Carlyle’s opinion of his character 
as a hero and Christian—His going out to Ireland—Attack 
on Drogheda—Butchery—His letters—Success through the 
country—Massacre of women at Wexford—Trouble in the 
army—Gets assistance—Takes Clonmel—Returns to England 
—Ireton takes command—Bishop of Conly executed—Pro¬ 
phetic address—Ireton dies of the plague—At last, in 1652, 
^ it is declared that Ireland is subdued—Confiscation of pro¬ 
perty— Cromwell’s slaughter-houses—Connaught exiles— 
Priest-killing—Henry, son of Cromwell—his humanity— 


CONTENTS. 


IX 


PAGE. 

Richard Cromwell succeeds—Bad management—Cry of 
loyalty .......... 59 

CHAPTER VII. 

Charles II. proclaimed—Cruel laws—Innocents and Nocents — 
Bramble’s sacrament—Act of Settlement—Appeal to Chris¬ 
tians—Irish benevolence rejected—Bill on Irish cattle— 
Free-trade — Home manufactures—Lord Berkley—Peter 
Talbot—Popish plot—Archbishop Plunket hanged—Shaftes¬ 
bury flees — Charles dies — James succeeds—Protestants 
tremble—Tyrconnel—Talbot—Irish ambassadors—James at 
Oxford—William, Prince of Orange—James’ flight—Revo¬ 
lution of 1668—William in a dilemma—James called back 
—Siege of Derry—Enniskilleners—Expulsion of the Dublin 
students— W illiam — Schomburgh—W illiam arrives—Re- 
gium Donum—Battle of the Boyne—James flies—William 
gives thanks to God—Attacks Limerick—Goes to England— 
Marlborough takes Cork and Kinsale—Ginckle—Sarsfield 
and Saint Ruth—Athlone taken—Ginckle’s honourable terms 
—Battle of Aughrim—Saint Ruth killed—Limerick taken— 
by treachery—Honourable treaty of Limerick . . .79 

CHAPTER VIII. 

Ingratitude of Ireland—Treaty broken—Queen Anne—Dean 
Swift—Presbyterians—Manufactories— Famine—Severe laws 
—Chesterfield—His deceit—George Stone—Clergy—White- 
boys, Oak-boys, Steele-boys — Result—Merchants—Three 
patriots—Difficulties—Lord Taaffe — Quarterage—Catholic 
rent—Mr. Flood—American revolution—Popish Relief Bill 
—New association—England—Volunteers—Happy effects— 
Rapparees ......... 98 

CHAPTER IX. 

New hopes—Men of talent—Character—Reviews of the volun¬ 
teers—New bills and new exertions—National Convention at 
Dublin—Its grandeur and results—Disappointments—Dis¬ 
solving of the volunteers—&c. . . . . . .119 

« CHAPTER X. 

State of the catholics—Penal laws—Petitions—United Irishmen 
—Soldiery — Doings of government — Spies — Emmett — 
United Irishmen’s oath—Cruelties—Fearful state of the 
country ......... . 129 

CHAPTER XI. 

The Union—Feelings of the people—Difficulties of obtaining it — 
Means of accomplishment—O’Connell appears for the first 
time, in 1800—His pithy speech, &c. .... 141 


X 


CONTENTS. 


PART II. 

PAGE. 

CHAPTER XII. 

Reasons for investigating ancient documents and characters— 
Character of Cormac—Tara’s Hall—St. Patrick—Colombkille 
—St. Kiaran—St. Moling—St. Bridget—St. Kevin . . 151 

CHAPTER XIII. 

Inauguration of kings—Character of Eoghan—Burial of kings— 
Ancient families—Poetry of the Ancients—Specimens of 
Irish families.169 


CHAPTER XIV. 

Dathi monuments—Giant’s table—Giants’ graves—Carrickfergus 
Dunluce castle—Giant’s causeway—Artificial curiosities— 
Ogham stones—Rocking stones and towers—The North 
—Poverty—Irish poetry, and wailing for the dead . . 190 

CHAPTER XV. 

Lough Neagh—Bleaching grounds—Linen manufacture—Corre¬ 
spondence of Locke and Molyneux—Armagh—Maynooth— 
Granauille—Her visit to Elizabeth—Howth Castle adventure 206 


PART III. 

CHAPTER XVI. 

Cup of trembling—Irish housekeeping—Indian meal—First news 
of the famine—Kind judge—First starving person, and means 
of preserving him—Unexpected assistance from New York 
—Joseph Bewley—Soup-shop—Manner of carrying bread 
through the street—Cook-street labours in Dublin—Central 
Relief Committee in Dublin—Amount of monies—God’s pro¬ 
mises and dealings . . . . . . . .215 


CHAPTER XVII. 

Stewards—Meal from New York—Sacks, and government ar¬ 
rangements for distribution of meal—Donation from pauper 
children of New York—Convent—Going to Belfast—Doings 
ot the women there — Hirelings and voluntaries — Hon. 
William Butler—William Bennett—Mrs. Hewitson—Visits 
to George Hill—Patrick M‘Kye’s letter .... 239 



CONTENTS. 


XI 


PAGE. 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

George Hill’s movements and success—Facts of Gweedore— 

Visit to Dungloe and Arranmore—Mr. Griffith—Sports of 
Children gone—Roshine Lodge—Return to Belfast by 
Derry—Visit to Antrim — A cave—Return to Dublin— 
Journey to Connaught—Mistake in character of a starving 
man—Misery at Newport—Orphan boy—Abraham and Sara 
—Sara’s bed and burial—Abraham’s death and burial— 
Drinking habits—Moderate drinking clergy . . . 264 

CHAPTER XIX. 

The Sound—Tour to Belmullet—Landlords—Tenantry—Walk 
on the sea-coast—Burying-ground — Shipwrecked sailors’ 
burial—Manner of burying the starving—Soldiers of Belmullet 
—Appearance of the people—Passport—Mr. Cony—Samuel 
Bourne—The girl of the mountain—Miss Wilson—Return 
to Belmullet—Scene of the cattle drivers, and courage of a 
boy—Letter to a London friend—Return to the Sound— 
Dreadful storm—Drowning of fishermen—Reading with 
servants—Achill—Bad management of grants—Disposition 
of children ......... 294 

CHAPTER XX. 

Poorhouses, Turnips, and Black Bread.317 

CHAPTER XXI. 

Newport—Pulling down houses—Mr.Pounding—Gildea—Burial 
at Newport—Molly Maguires, &c.—Rebellion of 1848 — 

Croy Lodge and Ballina—The self-denying child—Hunting, 
and habits of a hunting lady—Visit to Ballina—Hospitality 
of Peter Kelly—Character of Mr. Kincaid—Capt. Short, 
and the people in general leaving the town—Stop at Ponton 
and arrival at Castlebar—Trial for murder—The feelings of 
the jury—Patrick’s day—Widow Fitzgerald—Visit to Partra 
—Balinrobe—Sense in the mountains—Old parish priest— 

Visit to Balinrobe—To Cong—Industry of the curate—Visit 
to Balinrobe workhouse—Old Head—Distress there—Louis- 
burgh—Excursion to the Killery mountains, &c.— Excursion 
to Adelphi — Incidents — Good landlady—Shepherds—Ro¬ 
mantic scenery—Return—Rockery — Adieu — West port 
and Castlebar—Soup-shops—Soyer’s soup—Journey to Tuam 
—Children in the convent—Happy results—Sad treatment 
on a car—Arrival at Cork—Description of Cove and Cork— 
Scenery up the Lee—Deaths in the famine—Blarney—Castle- 
makyr—Potatoe blast — Spike Island — Mathew Tower — 
Letters—Grave of Charles Wolfe—Water Cure—Friend’s 
Funeral.387 




Xll 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE. 

CHAPTER XXII. 

Leaving Cork—Passage to Dublin—New Trials there—Reflec¬ 
tions on past labours, &c.—Last look of Ireland—Summing 
up—Landlords—Clergymen—Relief Officers—Going out of 
Ireland .429 




i 


s 




•v 


LIGHTS AND SHADES OF IRELAND. 


CHAPTER I. 


“ Stript, wounded, beaten, nigh to death, 

“ I saw him by the highway-side.” 

Those who have read the volume called Ireland’s 
. Welcome, have been informed that I left New York in 
the spring of 1844, for the purpose of exploring and 
ascertaining, by eye-witness, the real condition of a 
people, whose history has been mixed with fable, and 
whose true character has been as little understood as 
their sufferings have been mitigated. 

In pursuing this work, the object is not precisely the 
same as in the preceding one j that was but the surface 
—the rippling of that mighty sea, whose waves have 
since been casting up little else but “mire and dirt,” and 
whose deep and continual upheavings, plainly indicate 
that the foundations, if not destroyed, are fast breaking 
up. i I then aimed at nothing more than giving a simple 
narration of facts, as they passed under observation, 
leaving the reader to comment upon those facts, as their 
different features were presented to the mind. 

Some, and possibly many, have been grieved that so 
much “ plainness of speech ” has been used ; but here 
emphatically “ flattering titles ” should have no place ; 
opiates have served no other purpose for diseased Ireland 
than to leave undisturbed the canker-worm, that was 
doing more effectually his deadly work within. “Peace, 

B 



2 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


peace/’ when there is no peace, eventually brings down 
the chastisings of the Almighty, and He has shown in 
language that cannot be misunderstood, for the last 
three years, that He sitteth in the heavens, overturning 
and overturning the nations of the earth, and, in his own 
due time, He whose right it is to rule will rule. The 
stone is rolling, and its velocity increases as it proceeds. 
The potatoe has done its work, and it has done it effec¬ 
tually : it has fed the unpaid millions for more than 
two centuries, till the scanty wages of the defrauded 
poor man have entered into the “ ears of the Lord of 
Sabaoth,” and He is now telling the rich that “ their 
gold and silver is cankered,” and that their day is 
coming speedily. 

We are gravely told that the year 1844 was one of 
great abundance, and that the peasantry were then a 
contented and happy people; but listen ! the year 1844 
ivas a year of abundance, but did the poor man share in 
this abundance —was he contented and happy ? Why 
then was the whole country rocking “ to and fro ** with 
the cry of repeal ? and, Why was O’Connell in prison ? 
Were the people all singing in their chains, not feeling 
the galling of the fetters, till he aroused them from their 
“ contented ” sleep 1 Did his fiery breath fan up embers 
that had lost all 'power of life ? and were there no heart¬ 
burnings beneath the tatters of the degraded cabiner, 
that strongly prompted to make a struggle for that 
liberty, which God has by birthright bestowed upon all 
bearing his image % A struggle they ivoidd have made, 
had one nod from the prison grates of O’Connell given 
the signal. Though there was no clamour, yet the leaven 
was silently leavening the whole lump, and they appeared 
anxiously waiting for some event, which they felt must 
come, they knew not whence, nor cared not how. 

But the year of abundance. From June 1844 to August 
1845, I visited the middle and southern part, including 
all the sea-coast, always on foot in the most destitute 
regions, that I might better ascertain the condition and 
character of the peasants in their most uncultivated 
state. What I then saw of privation and suffering, has 


OF IRELAND. 


3 


been but partially sketched, because the “many things ’’ I 
had to say the world was not then able to bear, neither 
are they now able to bear them all; but posterity will 
bear them, and posterity shall hear them. Please read 
the partial sketch of Bantry, Glengariffe, and the sea- 
coast of Kerry, given in the years 1844-5, and enter into 
some floorless, dark, mud cabin, and sit down upon a 
stool, if happily a stool be there, and witness the 
“abundance’’ of those happy fertile days. Again and 
again did I partake of a scanty meal of the potatoe, after 
a day’s walk of miles, because that I knew a full repast 
would deprive the family of a part of the supply which 
was in reserve for their moderate meal, which by mul¬ 
titudes was then taken but once a day. 

Mark ! these are not isolated cases, but everywhere 
in the mountainous regions, upon the sea-coast, and in 
the glens ; from Dublin to the extreme south did I daily 
meet these facts. Nor was this privation of short con¬ 
tinuance : from Christmas to harvest the poor peasant 
must stint his stomach to one meal a day, or his seed 
for the coming crop would be curtailed, and the neces¬ 
sary rent-payer, the pig, not be an equivalent to keep 
the mud cabin over the head of his master. 

So much for “ abundance,” now r for “ content.” That 
there was an unparalleled content, where anything 
approached to tolerable endurance, cannot be denied, but 
this was their religious training; however imperfect 
their faith and practice may be, in patience they have , 
and do exemplify a pattern which amounts almost to 
superhuman. “ We must be content with what the 
Almighty puts upon us,” was their ready answer when 
their sufferings were mentioned ; yet this did not shut 
their eyes to a sense of the sufferings which they felt 
were put upon them by man, and their submission, 
seemed in most cases to proceed from the requirements 
of the Almighty, rather than from ignorance of their 
wrongs; for in most instances the parting question 
would be, “ Don’t ye think the government is too hard 
on us ; or do ye think we shall ever git the repale, and 
will Ireland ever be any better,” Ac. That they are a 


4 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


happy people so long as any ray of hope remains, or 
when they share in common the gifts of Providence, 
must be allowed ; yet their quick perception of justice 
often manifests itself, where any loop-hole is made which 
offers any amendment to their condition, and when the 
flickering spark of life is kindled within them. They 
have committed bold and wicked acts, which revenge 
prompted by a sense of injustice alone would do. Justice 
long withheld, and oppression multiplied proportioned 
to uncomplaining endurance, sometimes awakes to a 
boldness almost unequalled by any but the savage of the 
wilderness ; nor do they wait for the night, or seek any 
other concealment, than to make sure of their prey— 
they care not who sees them, or on what gallows they 
are hung, if the hated victim be out of the way. 

“ Hark ! from yon stately ranks what laughter rings, 

“ Mingling wild mirth with war’s stern minstrelsy. 

“ His jest—while each brave comrade round him flings, 

“ And moves to death with military glee. 

“ Boast Brin ! boast them tameless, frank, and free, 

“ In friendship warm, and cool in danger known, 

“ Rough Nature’s children, humorous as she. 

“ And he great chieftain strike the proudest tone 
“ Of thy bold harp, green Isle, the hero is thine own.” 

Seldom do they murder for money, and in no country 
where oppression has ruled have the oppressed plundered 
and robbed so little as in Ireland, yet they can plunder 
and rob ; and these crimes are multiplying and will 
multiply till a new state of things places them in a 
different condition. 

I was riding upon a coach in the second year of the 
famine, in a lonely part of the west, when the coach¬ 
man pointed me to a corner around the wall, and re¬ 
marked, “ When I passed this place to-day, a man lay 
dead there, who had been killed some hours before by 
one of the tenants living upon the land here.” “ Why 
did he do the shocking deed?” I inquired. “A good 
deed by dad,” was the answer, “ Why lady, he was the 
greatest blackguard that ever walked the airth j he was 
agent to a gentleman, and he showed no mercy to a poor 


OF IRELAND. 


5 


man that was toilin’ for the potatoe; but as soon as the 
famine was sore on the cratur’s, he drove every one into 
the blake staurm that could not give the rent, and 
many’s the poor bein’ that died with the starvation, 
without the shelter; and wouldn’t ye think that such 
a hard-hearted villain better be dead, than to live and 
kill so many poor women and helpless children, as would 
be wandrin’ in the black mountains this winter, if he 
should live to drive ’em there.” Now, this is certainly 
unchristian logic, but it is resentful nature’s logic, and 
in accordance with all the principles of national killing. 
In vain I preached and held up a better principle—“ A 
great good had been done to all the parish, and all the 
parish should be glad that so many lives had been saved 
by this one which had been taken.” 

It was night, and I felt a little relief when a police¬ 
man ascended the coach, who was going in quest of a 
coroner; a sad deed, he added, but the murdered man 
was hard-hearted, and no doubt that it was some of the 
tenants on the land of which he was agent who did the 
work, yet not one has escaped. “ And why,” retorted 
the driver, “ should a hap’orth of ’em take up the heel; 
they have done a good deed, and if they’re hung, it will be 
better than the starvation.” The policeman was silent, 
and I was not anxious to pursue the fruitless argument 
with one who saw no light, but through the medium of 
doing unto others as others do to him. And where this 
principle prevails, as it does in the hearts of all the un¬ 
sanctified, the wonder is that so few have been the lawless 
deeds that have been transacted in that oppressed country 
for centuries gone by. The mischief is all laid at the 
door of the Papists ; and when I speak of the Christianity 
of Ireland, I would do it with caution—I would not 
“hurt the oil or the wine,”—I would not “judge nor 
set at nought my brother,”—but I would say deliberately 
and conscientiously, that if those who call themselves 
the only true light of that benighted land, the only safe 
lamps to guide to the heavenly country, were more care¬ 
ful to show mercy and walk humbly, they might long 
ago have seen a better state of things. Yes, had bible 


6 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


men and bible women possessed that love in heart which 
has been upon the tongue, had they manifested that ten¬ 
derness for Christ, as they have for a party, a name, or 
a church ; had they been as assiduous to win souls to 
Christ by love and kindness, as they have to gather in 
their tithes by law and violence, many who are now 
scoffing at a “ truth held in unrighteousness,” might 
have been glorying in one producing holiness and peace. 
But I forbear: “murder will out,” wrong will be righted, 
however painful the process, and though judgment 
long delay, yet it must come at last ; the wheel of 
Providence is ever rolling, and every spoke, belonging to 
it must in turn be uppermost, and the oppressed cannot 
alw r ays be at the bottom. 

One object of this volume is to place before the world 
a plain and simple outline of which is called the Famine 
of Ireland, in 1846-7-8-9. 

But before I take the reader down the sides of this 
dreadful gulf, before I uncover to him the bowels of that 
loathsome pit, on the margin of which he often may 
have tremblingly stood, I will gird up his mind for the 
conflict, by taking him, in the autumn of 1845, and the 
spring of 1846, through the more fertile and happy north, 
where we are told that better management has pro¬ 
duced better results; there we shall find mementos of 
deep interest, w r hen, ages now passed away, this people 
stood out to surrounding nations not as a “ bye-word 
and hissing,” but as a noble example of religion, indus¬ 
try, and prosperity, wffiich few if any could then present. 
And though its early history is quite obscured by fiction, 
and interlarded with poetical romance, yet all this serves 
to prove that the remains of a true coin are there, or 
a counterfeit would not have been attempted. 

Isot only in the north, but scattered over the whole 
island are found inscriptions on stone, some standing 
above ground and others buried beneath, which, by 
their dates and hieroglyphics, tell you that centuries 
ago men lived here, whose memories were honoured, not 
only for their valour in war, but for their purity of life. 
It was not till I had faithfully explored the interior 


OF IRELAND. 


t 

and southern coast, that the early history of this people 
had been much studied ; as my object then , was to see 
them as they are found in the nineteenth century, with¬ 
out investigating particularly their age or pedigree. In 
my later excursions facts so startled and convinced me 
that their pretensions to former prosperity and great¬ 
ness were not fabulous, that I regretted for my supine¬ 
ness on the subject; for I found by w r ell authenticated 
history, that the common saying among the peasantry 
that Ireland was once “ a land of saints,” w'as founded 
in more truth than her enemies or even friends are 
ready to acknowledge; and the belief is quite confirmed 
in my mind, that when searching for truth concerning 
a nation “ scattered and peeled,” as the Irish have been, 
the true ore can better be found in the unpolished 
rubbish, in the traditions of a rude nation, retained 
from age to age, than among the polished gems of polite 
literature, written to please rather than instruct, and 
pull down rather than to build up. 

It has never been my lot to meet with a straight¬ 
forward, impartial, real matter-of-fact work, written on 
that devoted country, till since the famine commenced. 
It has been suggested that an Irishman could not write 
an impartial book on his country, and an Englishman 
or Scotchman would not. 

The last three years have abundantly proved, that 
there are many Englishmen, who can not only feel , hut 
act for that poor despised island, who would rejoice 
to see her arise, yes, who would and do take her by the 
hand, who not only talk, hut make sacrifices for her 
welfare ; and let me record it with gratitude, that pos¬ 
terity may read the efforts they have made and are 
still making, to place this down-trodden people among 
the happiest nations of the earth. Gladly would I 
record, were the privilege allowed me, the names of 
those Quakers, those dissenters of all denominations, 
and many of the churchmen too, who have done much 
in the days of darkness, for the starving poor of that 
land ; yes, jet me record as a debt of gratitude I owe to 
England, the scenes I have witnessed, when some box 


8 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


of warm clothing was opened, when the naked starving 
women and children would drop upon their knees, and 
clasp their emaciated fingers, and with eyes raised 
to heaven, bless the Almighty God for the gift that 
the kind English or blessed Quaker had sent them ; 
and while I was compelled to turn away from the touch¬ 
ing view, my heart responded Amen and Amen. Let this 
suffice, that when in these future pages truths may be 
recorded that will not always be so salutary, yet be as¬ 
sured these truths are such as should be told, and they 
will not meet any cases mentioned in the above—in other 
language, they will not fit where they do not belong. 

My position in regard to the condition and feeling 
of Ireland during the famine, was different from all 
others ; I must necessarily look at things with different 
eyes, and different sensations from what others could 
do; I was a foreigner, could not expect, and did not ask, 
any reward either in praise or money for the interest I 
might take in that country ; I was attached to England, 
as the race from which I descended, and pitied Ireland 
for her sufferings, rather than I admired her for any 
virtues which she might possess ; consequently, my mind 
was so balanced between the two, that on which side 
the scale might have preponderated, the danger of blind 
partiality would not have been so great. 

Besides, the country had previously been traversed, 
the habits and propensities of the cabiners been studied, 
they had been taken by surprise w T hen no opportunity 
was given for escape or deception. I was always an 
unexpected guest, and gave them no time to brush up 
their cabins, or put on their shoes, if happily they 
might have any. When the famine came over them, 
they were placed in a different position to draw out 
their feelings towards others, and the pangs of hunger 
induced them necessarily to act unreservedly; all party 
feeling was lost, and whoever gave them bread was the 
object to which they most closely hung, and to those 
who rudely sent them empty away, the answer was often 
made, “ May the blessed God never give ye to feel the 
hunger.” 


OP IRELAND. 


9 


And here it must be written that, though some might 
be ungrateful, yet such were the exceptions; as a 
people they are grateful, and patient to a proverb. 
Not a murmuring word against God or man did I once 
hear among all the dying, in those dreadful days, and 
the children were taught by parents and teachers to 
fall on their knees morning and evening, to pray 
Almighty God to “bless their kind benefactors and 
keep them from the hunger, ” and many have died 
with these prayers on their lips. I must not enlarge; 
these things are not mentioned to probe afresh the 
painful sensations which philanthropists have felt for 
Ireland, but to bear a testimony to facts, which deserve 
to be recorded; and should any of these facts appear 
exaggerated, let it be said that no language is adequate 
to give the true , the real picture; one look of the eye 
into the daily scenes there witnessed, would overpower 
what any pen, however graphic, or tongue, however 
eloquent, could pourtray. 

As my eye was single to one object, as I have ever 
peculiarly felt that I was acting for eternity, in acting 
for Ireland, the candour I use must be forgiven, and 
the pronoun I can make no other apology but sheer 
necessity, as no we had a part in anything essential 
which will be recorded in these pages. 

When the hand that pens these pages, and the heart 
that has been lacerated at these sufferings, shall have 
ceased together, may Ireland and her benefactors “ live 
before God.” 


CHAPTER II. 

“ Tell Erin’s mournful daughter 
“ O’er kindred bones she’ll tread.” 

August of the year 1845, I prepared for an excursion 
to the north, and a visit to Scotland; the famine had 
not commenced, and I was buoyed up with the happy 

b 3 



10 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


assurances of all that was beautiful in scenery, rich in 
agriculture, and comfortable in reality among the peasan¬ 
try. Bantry, and the mountains of Kerry, Skibbereen, 
and Glengariff would vanish before the fertile fields 
of the County of Down, and the sparkling waters of 
Lough Neagh. 

Making “ fair deductions” for the strong propensity 
in nations and sectarians to magnify the defects and 
lessen the virtues of such as differ from them, either in 
opinion or practice ; and knowing that the south and 
north were quite antipodes in profession of Christianity, 
I yet found the remainder sufficient to give a surplus 
fund for the support of every rational expectation of 
what lay before me. My most anxious inquiry had ever 
been, What is truth respecting this land of poetry 
and song, “ this misty isle of the sea” where love and 
hatred, sorrow and joy, plenty and want, beauty and 
deformity are so strangely comingled ? 

Finding the perplexity increase in proportion to obser¬ 
vation, I now resorted to books, hoping that through a 
literary medium I might attain to more definite infor¬ 
mation of that portion of the country which is called 
the intelligent north. I did so. Here a hydra head is 
presented:—“ Who is sufficient for these things V ’—Who 
lias the fearless candour to pen the “truth, the whole 
truth, and nothing but the truth,” of a people so mis¬ 
understood ?—Who can lift up this curtain and look in, 
and not find his interest, his politics, or his religion so 
identified, that when the brush is applied to the canvass, 
a little colouring here, a little concealment there, will 
best suit his own narrow bigotry, or quiet the fears of a 
government who has sent him ; and above all, please 
the whole world, so that the whole world may buy his 
picture. In either of these positions has the mind sold 
its freedom to another, whose wayward caprices may lead 
the writer into fearful mistakes, or dangerous misrepre¬ 
sentations. 

.Though the author of the following pages may escape 
these snares, yet another as formidable may, if not 
sternly opposed, under as specious a pretence, so blind 


OF IRELAND. 


11 


the true light, that a confused if not mutilated picture 
may be given; I allude to the danger of that excessive 
pity or blind fondness, -which a kind mother feels for a 
deformed or half-idiot child, which all the world, if not 
the father himself \ sets aside as a thing of nought. 

With these preliminaries and concessions, I throw 
myself upon the indulgence of the reader, while I col¬ 
lect from the best authority in possession, a brief outline 
of the early history of these monumental and enduring 
curiosities, which so much abound in every part of the 
island, with the origin and character of the people, who 
have long since departed, leaving undisputed traces of 
deep research and devoted piety. It seems to be the 
propensity of all nations to boast of great antiquity, if 
they are found in a low estate, and their pedigree in 
the least doubtful. So with Ireland. The most abased 
peasant when you allude to the present condition of that 
country, falls back upon relics of ancient date, tells you 
of great men and valorous kings, of saints, and schools 
of learning, of horses shod with silver shoes, and capari¬ 
soned with all that is rich in ornament; and even the 
titled gentleman talks blusteringly of princely descent, 
of kings who drank from golden cups in Tara’s Hall, 
whose name is linked with his; and whether you find 
him in hall or cabin, he was once “ on one side of the 
house” a great stock. That the country is an old one, 
all writers of research and candour agree. Cambrensis 
and the psalters of Cashel, both assert that Ireland must 
have been settled as early as three hundred years from 
the flood; in this, the records of Tara, which are the 
most ancient and as well accredited as any in Ireland, 
coincide, asserting that the first settlers were from 
Syria, and their first landing was in Kerry, about one 
thousand in number, in sixty rude vessels. After them, 
various Asiatic tribes, and after these, the descendants 
of Phoenicia and Carthagenia, called Milesians, from 
Milesius their father named Heber, Heremon, and Ith, 
the first of that race who came to Ireland. Ith was 
killed in a voyage of pleasure he was making to Ireland, 
and Heber and Heremon conquered the Irish settlers 


12 


LIQHTS AND SHADES 


and divided the kingdom among themselves 752 y ears 
after the first settlers came; when a quarrel between 
Heber and Heremon, drove the former into the neigh¬ 
bouring islands of Scotland, which are named Hebrides. 

The descendants of Heremon retained the govern¬ 
ment for 2457 years, under the reign of 169 kings, and 
twenty-one invasions ; and after this long hold of in¬ 
dependence, the policy of Henry II., king of England, 
aided by Pope Adrian IV.’s bull, deprived them of this 
power, and brought the island under popish jurisdic¬ 
tion by adding it to the holy see, that lie might secure 
the Peter-pence from every native. Ireland was then 
famed for learning and piety, and in the fifth, sixth 
and seventh centuries it was called the “ Land of Saints’’ 
or “ Island of Saints.” Adrian felt that it would add 
much honour to Rome to annex it to her religion, but 
the contest was long, before the question was settled. 

It was not till the sixth Lateran Council of Trent, in 
1546, that they reluctantly consented to the new arrange¬ 
ment. The inferior clergy could not for a long time give 
up their ancient usages, and still nominated to ecclesi¬ 
astical office and dignities. The Irish church, as it was 
then called, had not put on her gaudy robes of popery. 
The Druids, whose relics of worship now remain, had 
been routed entirely, and this “ land of saints” had her 
colleges and schools in every part; strangers flocked 
thither for education from neighbouring nations, and 
from these colleges men emanated into England, Erance, 
Switzerland and Italy, to establish colleges and monas¬ 
teries. Ireland was then catholic, but not Roman catholic. 
The authority of the pope she had not acknowledged, 
and this I have found, by reading the early history of 
the nation, is the reason why they still shrink from 
being called Roman catholic, considering it a term of 
reproach, although they have gradually submitted to all 
her terms and creeds, yet as it is in regard to the English 
yoke, as Bishop Hughes of New Pork has said, it was 
incomplete conquest that put it on, and it never has, 
nor never can sit easy. 

England then, was not England now. The Norman 


OF IRELAND. 


13 


Conquest liad made her desolate, her fields lay waste 
and the Saxons were deprived of all civil rights : they 
were bought and sold with the land, and in the reign of 
Henry II., Giraldus states, that the number exported to 
Ireland for sale, overstocked the market. The Scotch 
too we are told in almost every cottage kept an English 
slave, and the whole of England was in deep distress. 
The name of Saxon was a term of great reproach, while 
the Norman chiefs overrun, and took possession of the 
towns and lands, and divided them among their vassals. 

The “ Island of Saints,” began to wane, when Adrian 
IV., who was formerly an Englishman, got the Roman 
see established in Ireland. Henry was offered the lord- 
ship of the island, on condition that he would maintain 
the papal supremacy, extend the borders of the church, 
correct the manners of the inhabitants, and bring them 
entirely under the laws of the Romish church. As an 
acknowledgment of this papal power, vested in Henry, 
the annual tax of one penny for every house, was levied 
to be delivered over to St. Peter. 

This bull of the pope was accompanied by a gold ring, 
adorned with an emerald, “as a token of Henry’s inves¬ 
titure of the right to rule over Ireland.” The struggle 
was long before all this was accomplished. Henry had 
rebellions to quell at home, headed by his own sons, 
and his pious mission to the land of saints, found great 
obstructions. But Ireland’s dark day was approaching. 
The Milesian power, which had existed a little more 
than 2500 years, at last was destroyed by the treachery 
of Dermot Macmurchad, king of Leinster, who was a 
monster of cruelty, and hated by his subjects, but kept 
his power by the protection of O’Lochlan, who preserved 
the sovereignty of Ireland. This great monarch died 
in battle, and Roderic O’Connor ascended the throne. 
Dermot’s territories were invaded, his subjects all de¬ 
serted him, he set fire to his capital, and fled to England, 
to solicit the assistance of the Normans, was received 
Graciously by the Norman king, who tendered his assist¬ 
ance to set him again on his throne in Leinster. Henry 
too, who was then in France, sent him letters patent, 


14 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


granting “ license and favour/’ to all sucli Norman, 
English, Scotch and Welsh, who should assist Dermot 
in regaining his kingdom. 

Through the instrumentality of Strongbow, son of the 
Earl of Pembroke, who was then in Wales conquering 
the south of that country, Dermot accomplished his nefa¬ 
rious designs. Strongbow, by his profligacy, had become 
ruined in fortune—fighting was his great delight, and 
he had acquired the name, Strongbow, by his dexterity 
in archery. Dermot made him an offer of the inheritance 
of Leinster in perpetuity, and his daughter Eva in mar¬ 
riage. Strongbow assented like a wise warrior, and a 
company of desperadoes, broken in fortune, and knights 
of military skill, but in fortune minus, set out for Ire¬ 
land. They landed—Roderic O’Connor scattered them 
into the fastnesses of the wild districts on the banks of 
the Slaney, and Dermot deceitfully submitted, renounced 
all claim to the government of Leinster, in the meantime 
dispatched messengers to Wales for assistance, and assis¬ 
tance was granted. In the early part of May, 1170, the 
Norman invaders, consisting of 40 knights, 60 men in 
coats of mail, and 500 archers, landed in Ireland, and 
with this small force boldly attempted its invasion, and 
strange as it may seem, they succeeded, and succeeded 
because the Irish monarch rallied not against the in¬ 
vading force. Dermot collecting all his strength, joined 
the invaders at a creek called the Bann, in the county 
of Wexford. The inhabitants defended themselves for a 
time with great bravery, but at the instigation of the 
clergy, they capitulated, and Wexford was surrendered 
into the hands of Dermot and his Norman allies. 

Some historians have imputed this to compunctions of 
conscience, which the people felt on account of their 
treatment to Dermot in former days, and the clergy 
had received great contributions to their church from 
this unprincipled king, and as in the days of Solomon, 
so then, and so now, “ A gift blindetli the eyes.” 

Wexford was now in the enemy’s hands. Strongbow 
was not in this invasion, but soon arrived with an army 
of 1200 men. Waterford was taken, and a dreadful 


OF IRELAND. 


15 


slaughter of men, women and children followed. Dermot 
arrived in the midst of this bloodshed and carnage, and 
manifested his joy by having the marriage of Eva his 
daughter solemnised with Strongbow. This was the first 
union of England with Ireland, and surely it has never 
been forgotten by either party. The invaders deter¬ 
mined to march to Dublin, and the city was carried by 
assault. Rapine, fire, and murder, followed in the wake 
of the blood-thirsty Strongbow, and though desperately 
opposed, yet the Irish, fighting at random, and divided 
into parties, were always in the end unsuccessful, and 
their want of arms, insubordination, and ignorance of 
military tactics, rendered them an easy prey to their 
enemies. The Normans were clad in steel, the horses as 
well as men, and Strongbow went on to conquest against 
the unarmed Irish, whose bravery availed but little, till 
the Danes of the Hebrides and the Isle of Man, united 
with the native Irish, and an immense army marched to 
Dublin, of 30,000 men, and Strongbow for the first time 
felt himself in danger. His subjects had many of them 
deserted him. Wexford had revolted, and Strongbow, 
after standing a siege of two months, offered to capitulate 
with Roderic, who refused any terms, but that the Nor¬ 
mans should leave the island. This was refused, and a 
desperate assault on the Irish camp scattered them in 
confusion, and the enemy now fixed his grasp on this ill- 
fated people. The well-clad disciplined Normans, trained 
to war, with their cross-bows and cloth-yard shafts, 
moving in orderly array, struck down and trampled 
under foot the panic-struck Irish. Success was certain, 
and Henry became alarmed at the powerful prosperity 
of Strongbow, and commanded all his subjects to return, 
and forbade anymore arms or ammunition to be exported, 
when the subtle Strongbow went in person, conciliated 
Henry, surrendered the city of Dublin with the seaports 
he had^aken, but Henry consented that he should retain 
all his Irish possessions, upon condition of homage and 
fealty to the English crown. 

Henry with a powerful fleet landed in Waterford in 
1171. Civil war was then raging in some parts of Ire- 


16 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


land, and taking advantage of this, Henry took the con¬ 
ciliating name of “ Protector”—this was the charm, as 
kind words always have been, to the warm-hearted Irish, 
and the foolish people hasted to pay him homage. 
Desmond, king of South Munster, resigned his estates 
to Henry—other kings did the same, and Henry marched 
into Dublin as a glorious monarch, made a splendid 
entertainment to the vassal princes, and as a kind mis¬ 
sionary of religion, commenced a reform of the Irish 
church. A synod of Irish princes and prelates assembled 
at Cashel, and the following decrees were enacted :— 

1st. “ That all unlawful marriages with relatives should 
be abolished by the faithful. 2nd. That infants should 
be catechised before the doors of the church, and baptised 
in’the holy font in the baptismal churches. 3rd. That 
all the faithful should pay tithes of animals, corn, &c., 
to the church where they belonged ; and 4th. That all 
ecclesiastical bonds should be exempt from the exactions 
of all laymen.” 

To these salvos were added, that neither petty kings 
nor any powerful men in Ireland should exact, as had 
been the custom, victuals and hospitable entertainments, 
or extort them by force ; and that the food which had 
been required four times a-year, by the neighbouring 
counts, from farms belonging to churches, should be 
claimed no more. 

In the midst of these grand church reforms, Henry 
was called home to England to quell the rebellions of 
his sons, and left these “ reformed churches” and newly- 
conquered districts in the hands of Norman barons to 
regulate. Connaught and Ulster remained independent, 
regulated their own churches and wars as best they 
could. 

These Norman keepers of “ church and state,” did not 
religiously regard the exalted station in which they were 
left, and the duped Irish found themselves in the power 
of lawless plunderers, who despoiled them of their lands, 
till the “ affection which was professed to exist towards 
the English government under Henry, manifested itself 
in opposition toward these unprincipled Normans, who 


OF IRELAND. 


17 


spread desolation wherever they could, till Roderic 
attempted a subjugation, was defeated, and in 1175 he 
submitted to the Anglo-Norman king as his liege lord, 
binding himself to pay an annual tribute to England, 
and bear the name of King of Ireland. The kings of 
England, were lords paramount, and the Irish kings as 
mere vassals of the Norman princes. 

To describe what followed, would only be an irksome 
detail of civil and cruel wars. Strongbow died unla¬ 
mented—wars and dreadful carnage ensued—Ulster and 
Connaught were laid waste—the whole nation was in 
anarchy—each petty monarch struggling for ascendancy 
—all law and humanity were trampled upon, by Irish, 
English, and Normans. Sons were opposed to fathers, 
and fathers to sons, and the greatest cruelties were prac¬ 
tised by all parties. Bridges and rocks are now shown 
as the memorable spots where innocent people were tor¬ 
tured, their limbs broken, and then thrown over the 
rocks into the sea, and so impressed were these scenes 
upon the mind, that they have been handed down from 
father to son, by oral tradition, from cabin to cabin, till 
the wildest mountain boy will point the traveller to 
some famed memento of the “ bloody Normans,” or the 
u blackguard Cromwell,” and “ Queen Bess,” who fol¬ 
lowed in the wake some few centuries after. 

Henry had designed the portion of Ireland which he 
had left in charge to the Normans for his son John, 
who in 1184 was twelve years of age ; and Prince John 
was sent to Ireland, to take possession of his inheritance, 
confirmed to him by the Pope. The Irish chieftains, 
who had quietly submitted to the Normans, attired in 
their best, presented themselves with all due loyalty to 
their new sovereign. Their national costume was a 
linen vest, flowing mantle, long locks, and bushy beard. 
Many of these chiefs were venerable old men, and this 
young stripling prince, and his courtiers, received them 
with ridicule and insult, plucked them by the beard, 
mocked their manners, and at last thrust them from 
their presence. 

These chiefs, burning with revenge, returned, and the 


18 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


country was roused to indignation, and like Pilate and 
Herod, tlie contending chiefs laid aside all animosity, 
and resolved to unite as one man and drive out these 
invaders. The young prince and his courtiers, revelling 
in undisturbed debauchery, little dreamed what was im¬ 
pending, and castles were simultaneously attacked, the 
Normans cut to pieces, and the proud young John lost 
the most of his army. 

Henry took the alarm, gave the reckless warrior De 
Courcy the government, called home his son, and by 
the treachery of the Irish chiefs, Ireland was subdued 
in part by De Courcy, and another “ incomplete con¬ 
quest” was the result. Henry died in 1189, leaving 
the country in a wretched state, for but a small part of 
the island had tamely submitted to his yoke, and the 
old Irish chieftains maintained the same usages among 
their subjects as ever had been practised, leaving the 
customs and manners unchanged, anarchy everywhere 
prevailed, and the sword and famine swept the in¬ 
habitants by thousands. Bribery was now practised 
among the chiefs, who hired themselves out to fight 
on any side where rapine and plunder offered the 
richest reward. Henry had appeared in Ireland as a 
missionary of the gospel and a reformer of the church, 
and the better to secure his object, he had attempted to 
bribe the clergy, who long withstood this baseness. He 
enjoined tithes for the payment of the priesthood, but 
the most of them refused the offer, and tithes were not 
collected, and for a long time tithes were unpaid. 

Henry next found another able tool in the form of 
John Comoyn, an Englishman, whom he created Arch¬ 
bishop of Dublin, and a system of corruption followed 
in the Irish church which seven hundred years have not 
been able entirely to efface. About one-third of the 
country at that time acknowledged a foreign power, and 
what were the majority doing, why, like a high-spirited 
boy, who had been beaten unmercifully for what he never 
deserved and consequently was never subdued, he looks 
with jealousy on the pet brother who has been kept 
docile by cakes and sweetmeats, and loses no opportunity 


OF IRELAND. 


19 


of vexing and holding in derision the hated favourite. 
So these unsubdued chieftains and their subjects hated 
these English colonists, who were allowed to plunder 
them, as barbarians, whenever they could be powerful 
enough; and as they were considered outlaws for their 
refusal of the foreign yoke, so to kill a native Irishman 
was counted no crime, when interest or convenience 
made it necessary. 

The authority no less than Sir John Davis, an English 
Attorney-General is, that for the space of 350 years after 
the first attempted conquest, the English laws were not 
communicated to the people, and they had no benefit of 
them. They were entirely out of their protection, and 
might be killed at option without any redress. Conse¬ 
quently, they were enemies to the crown of England, 
and all subsequent lullabys of “ a good time coming 
if under the monotonous hum they have dozed a little, 
yet it has only served to give their eyes a clearer vision 
when they have aroused from their slumber, and unsub¬ 
dued, unfed, unpaid, they still give fearful proofs that 
a lively sense of injustice is rankling within. Here let 
us pause, and cheerfully render unto “ Caesar, the things 
that are Csesar’s.” It is an historical fact, given by 
Moore, Taylor, and others, that it was the Normans, 
and not the Saxons, who were the foreign invaders and 
conquerors of Ireland. When the Normans first invaded 
it, there were scarcely any Saxons in the country but 
slaves, who had been purchased at the Bristol market, 
and a convention of the clergy, after the invasion by 
Dermot, declared that the success of the Normans was 
owing to the sin of the Irish in purchasing slaves, and 
all slaves were immediately set at liberty, and the 
Romish church now prohibits the traffic, on pain of 
excommunication. 

Another important item in the history of this people 
is, that before the Norman invasion, the land was held 
by the tenantry, at the option of the chiefs, and at a 
moment’s warning they might be dispossessed. The 
Normans gladly availed themselves of this privilege, 
preferring serfs to solid yeomanry; thus this virtual 


20 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


slavery, began with the Irish, and perpetuated by the 
Normans, now receives its crowning finish by the English 
government, who, in Elizabeth’s time, garnished this 
sepulchre afresh, by hereditary entailment, only suffering 
the labourer to remain, for the convenience of the land¬ 
lord, who would throw him adrift whenever a whim 
should dictate. 

Let the bones of the starved multitude, in the bogs and 
mountains of the west, who have died without shelter 
in 1849, now testify to the truth, and let generations 
unborn stand appalled when they read the story. 

It needs no skill in politics to see, that there can be 
no mutual interest, when but one party alone is benefited, 
and if the Irish tenant take no interest in the landlord, 
who withholds from him every right of soil, he may 
thank his own injudicious policy, that should compel 
the tenant so to feel, and when any better prospect by 
insurrection offers, he need not be disappointed nor cry 
out ingratitude, though his unrewarded tenant joins the 
strongest party against him. Taylor, in his history of 
the Irish wars says, that the Norman monarchs found 
that the degenerate English were more difficult to 
manage than the Irish, their whole aim seemed to be to 
prevent the influence of the British government, in 
order to maintain their own ground. An English pale 
was formed embracing the first possessions of the Anglo- 
Normans, including the eastern and south-eastern coast 
of Ireland. Here was pronounced to be the only civi¬ 
lized part of Ireland, the rest were under no laws, and 
maintained no rights, but what were granted by force ; 
and they barbarously fought on, mutual murderers of 
each other, till the reign of Queen Elizabeth. The faith¬ 
ful creature did what she could, and did it well, to make 
these barbarians succumb. 

Beside the O’Connors of Connaught, MacMurroughs of 
Leinster, O’Lochlans of Meath, O'Briens of Thomond, five 
families of O’Neils of Ulster, there were no families in 
Ireland but were held as aliens, and could neither sue nor 
be sued in the English courts of law, and whenever these 
aliens complained, or made any resistance to robbery or 


OF IRELAND. 


21 


murder, a cry of rebellion was raised, and hence, when¬ 
ever they have manifested any pain under the scathing, 
blistering, and starving, through which they have con¬ 
stantly been passing, a force is immediately rallied to 
put down the “ rebellious Irish.” To English history 
I appeal, when the statement is disputed, that whenever 
the Irish attempted to defend their own rightful pos¬ 
sessions, they were denominated rebels against govern¬ 
ment, when they are not acknowledged as subjects of 
British government. The families just mentioned were 
the only “ Free blood” among the Irish, and when any 
out of this blood were murdered, the accused had only to 
plead that the murdered was not of the “ Free bloods,” 
and he was acquitted. 

Thus affairs continued under the different kings of 
England. Richard Coeur de Lion left Ireland no better 
than he found it ; his brother John, whose name is 
mentioned only in abhorrence by English as well as 
Irish, the former resisted successfully, but Ireland found 
no redress. This John visited Ireland in 1210, the 
Irish princes paid homage to him ; he made a second 
visit and carried new English laws for his English sub¬ 
jects, but excluded the Irish from any participation. 
Henry III. in 1216, did the same, extended the 
privileges of Magna Charta to all but the natives ; and 
though these despised outcasts entreated repeatedly to 
be brought within the English pale, they were always 
rejected. 

The foolish policy of the barons and new owners of the 
soil, was to keep them as outlaws, that they might op¬ 
press with impunity ; so does slavery strive to hide its 
head ; the aristocracy of Ireland then might find a fel¬ 
low-feeling in the slave-holder, and now he must not 
wince, though he may be suspected of wanting the meek¬ 
ness of Moses and the justice of Solomon. It is a re¬ 
markable fact that through all this oppression of the 
Irish, the English monarchs always turned to them for 
help in wars with their enemies ; and against the Welsh 
and Scotch they have always assisted the English. 

Edward I. in 1272, repeated the same cruelties, mur- 


22 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


dering the native Irish, giving no protection to man or 
woman in any case ; yet these confiding outcasts fur¬ 
nished him with an immense army to attempt the con¬ 
quest of the Scotch. 


CHAPTER III. 

“ And Athenry’s hall of slaughter 
“ Shall hide but half her dead.” 

It is truly a long road that never turns, and when a 
leaf is turned over for Ireland, the new side is always 
the worst. 

Edward had marched to Scotland with his Irish and 
Welsh army, and after some successful battles, the ever 
to be remembered one of Bannockburn gave the native 
Irish hope that they might get their freedom if they 
had a skilful leader ; and the Ulster chiefs invited 
Robert Bruce to their aid. He sent his brother Edward, 
to whom they offered the crown of Ireland in May, 
1315, and with an army of six thousand he landed in 
Carrickfergus ; the Irish joined him, and the English 
settlements were destroyed without mercy. Some of the 
English settlers declared for Bruce—Fedlim, king of 
Connaught, for awhile aided the English, then went 
over to Bruce who was crowned at Dundalk, returned 
to Ulster, and at Northburgh Castle he held a court, 
with all the formalities of an Irish monarch. 

In the year following he was preparing for a new 
contest, when he received the sad intelligence that his 
ally Fedlim O’Connor had been defeated in a pitched 
battle, and that eleven thousand Irish were slain. This 
was in Galway County, near Athenry. 

Bruce redoubled his energy, and desolated the country 
to the walls of Dublin, was defeated at last, in 1317, 
and the English rallied to drive the invaders from the 
country. Famine now raged, and so dreadful was the 
scourge, that the dead were taken from their graves, and 



OF IRELAND. 


23 


the flesh cut off and boiled in their skulls. * The Scotch 
army was reduced, and again were the Irish destined to 
their usual fate— defeat; for Edward Bruce, in spite of 
all remonstrance risked a battle, with 2000 men, against 
an English force of 15,000, and at Tagher, near Dundalk, 
October, 1318, his army was mostly destroyed, and he 
found dead, with Sir John Maupas, lifeless, stretched on 
his body. 

Here we find the miserable Irish again, their sanguine 
leader dead, and they under Edward III., in a worse 
condition than ever. The aristocracy were most un¬ 
merciful, the English barons over them were but a step 
above savages, quarrelled among themselves, and the 
country was overspread with plunder, and slaughter. 
The Irish again applied for the protection of English 
laws, but were again denied ; and though the English 
were determined to prevent intermarriages between the 
two races, yet in the remote districts they often occurred. 
Great efforts were made to check this, but like prohibited 
marriages in private life, the contest generally ends in 
a runaway match. 

Thus hated as were the savage, “rebellious” Irish, yet 
the savage invading English “become more Irish than the 
Irish themselves many of them renounced the English 
dress and put on the Irish,—took the Irish names, and 
used their language,—and thus became so identified that 
they were not known. This amalgamation has descended 
to the present generation, and accounts for that wide dif* 
ference which is now perceivable in every part where a 
genuine Irish family of the “ olden blood” can be traced. 
The stranger who enters these families, feels at once, 
however great or honourable they may be, that he is a 
free and welcome guest—that all the urbanity and kind¬ 
ness proffered, proceed from a sincerity of heart that 
cannot be misunderstood. They are polite without affec¬ 
tation—hospitable without ostentation—entirely free 
from any fear of contamination, by a generous con¬ 
descension to their inferiors. Their servants are a “part 


* Camden. 


24 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


and parcel” of themselves, interested for their masters, 
as a necessary result arising from the masters’ interest 
for them, and without any cringing servility, they show 
a proper respect, and pay them all due honour, arising 
from choice, and not from fear. 

The mixed race are everywhere found among the 
nobility and gentry; and here the stranger is early made 
acquainted with the high pedigree of the family he is 
visiting, on one “side of the house,” they are careful to tell 
you that they are of “ high blood,” either English or Irish, 
and sometimes Scotch. Their servants too,are made more 
distinctly to feel the importance of this “ high blood,” 
and must keep up a studied deference which, in many 
cases amounts to degradation. This applies principally 
to “ upstarts,” as they are properly called, who have late 
in life become initiated into a little gentility by mar¬ 
riage, or some sudden patrimony which has fallen to 
them from “ one side of the house.” 

“ I hate the lower order of Irish,” said one of these ; 
“you must know that my family on the mother’s side, 
are a branch of the old English nobility, and we have 
always kept ourselves from mingling with the Irish, 
as much as possible/’ 

Do you know, said the governess of a family of the true 

Irish, who Mr. - is % He descended in a straight 

line from a princely family, but he is so far from boast¬ 
ing, that he has enjoined upon his friends not to mention 
the circumstance to guests and strangers ; “do not” she 
added, “expose me.” 

It is greatly to be regretted that the true Irish cha¬ 
racter, is being swallowed and hidden in the various 
mixtures which are found among them. It makes them 
neither one nor the other—neither “ Jew nor Greek,” 
“ barbarian or Scythian”—and in proportion as the Irish 
is lost they become vain and affected, especially when a 
smattering of education is put on without a disciplining 
of the heart. 

Let this digression serve as a little halting place after 
continued battles, to rally fresh strength, to follow 
rapidly in a direct line the recital of wars and sufferings 



OF IRELAND. 


25 


and wrongs unparalleled of so long continuance in any 
people. 

Now a new expedient was tried to break up this min¬ 
gling of races, by turning to the “ degenerated English,” 
as they were called, who associated with the Irish, and 
“ excluding from all share in the government the 
old colonists of the country,” while none but those of 
English birth should be eligible to office among those 
who are included in the English pale. This was so 
strongly opposed, that the dispute was settled by limit¬ 
ing the exclusion to the native Irish, and the distinction 
between English by birth and English by descent was 
now introduced. 

Now follow the “statutes of Kilkenny,” and “ Whoso 
readeth, let him understand.” 

In 1367, when Edward had tried his skill about forty 
years at reigning, a parliament of the lords and pale was 
held at Kilkenny, and these statutes were enacted: “ That 
intermarriage with the natives, or any connection with 
them, in the way of fostering and gossipred, should be 
considered and punished as high treason ; that any man 
of English race assuming an Irish name, or using the 
Irish language, apparel, or customs, should forfeit all his 
lands and tenements; that to adopt or submit to the 
Brehon law, (the ancient law of Ireland) was treason ; 
that the presentation of ‘ mere Irishmen’ to any ecclesi¬ 
astical benefice, or the admission of them to religious 
houses, was penal; that to admit Irish cattle to pasture 
or graze upon the lands of the English was also penal; 
as well as to entertain any Irish bard, minstrel, or story¬ 
teller, who perverted the imagination by romantic tales.” 

These laws, as Lord Clare has said, had their full effect, 
for “ they were a perpetual declaration of war.” English 
blood as well as Irish was aroused—the authority of the 
English declined, and the distinction between Normans 
and Saxons was fast waning, but the statutes of Kilkenny 
were to endure between natives and invaders, so long as 
seed-time and harvest should remain, and here they 
stand, under the names of Norman barons and Irish 

c 


26 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


natives—the “ English rebels,” the “ Irish enemies,” and 
“ lords of the pale.” 

Next comes Richard II., who did nothing for Ireland 
while living, and after paying them two military visits, 
in the first of which the native chiefs paid him homage, 
and in the second he was called back to contest his 
crown, he terminated his own life in Pontefract 
Castle. 

Henry IV., in 1399, now usurped the throne, but did 
nothing for Ireland. Henry V. had so much to do with 
fighting battles with France, that the Irish natives, 
taking the advantage of the weakness of English unas¬ 
sisted power, so far succeeded in regaining their old pos¬ 
sessions, that the Speaker of the “ House of Commons” 
declared “ that the greater part of the lordship of Ire¬ 
land had been conquered by the natives,” and the lord- 
ships were driven to the sad alternative of buying off the 
hostility of the Irish, by paying an annual amount under 
the name of “ Black Rent.” 

During the reign of Henry VI., the appointment of 
Richard Duke of York to the lieutenancy of Ireland, 
was an important event. He found the country in a 
miserable state, and, secured with large powers from the 
English king, he set about reforming the state of the 
country—placed the native Irish under the same laws as 
the English enjoyed ; but in the beginning of this sun¬ 
shine, he was called back to England to quell an insur¬ 
rection there ; he made Henry prisoner, but his queen 
consort took the field, marched against the Yorkists, 
and so defeated them, that Richard fled to Ireland, was 
hailed as their prince, but again was called back to Eng¬ 
land, to aid his son Edward with 5000 Irishmen, but 
Madame Margaret, Henry’s consort, rallied an army four 
times larger, killed 3000 of the Irish; Richard also fell, 
and thus ended all present hope for Ireland. 

Passing on to Henry VII., the English dominions in 
Ireland consisted only of the counties of Dublin, Louth, 
Kildare, and Meath, Irish laws governed all beside; 
these made inroads upon the pale, while the landed lords 


OF IRELAND. 


27 


were absent, during the wars of the houses of York and 
Lancaster. To prevent this, the pale formed a fraternity, 
taken from the four counties, called “Brothers of St. 
George.” These brothers, only thirteen in number, com¬ 
manded a “ force of 120 archers on horseback, forty 
men-at-arms, and forty pages.” This army was reduced 
to forty archers and forty spears in 1478. This, then, 
was the formidable army the English maintained in Ire¬ 
land, at an expense of <£'600. annually, which if Ireland 
could not pay, England should aid ; and with these 
forces the parliament of the pale, by enforcing and 
adding salutary laws, hoped that they should keep in 
awe the rebel “ enemies.” 

In 1446, it was enacted, that “ Any man who does not 
keep his upper lip shaved, may be treated as an Irish 
enemy.” A few years after, these “ rebels,” still uneasy, 
drew forth another enactment, by the same pale : “ If an 
Irishman, who is denizened, kill or rob, he may be used 
as an Irish enemy, and slain on the spot” In 1463, an 
enactment reads, “ That any body may kill thieves or 
robbers, or any person going to rob or steal, having no 
faithful men of good name and English approval in their 
company f and that the Irish within their pale shall 
wear English habits , take English names, and swear alle¬ 
giance, on pain of forfeiture of goods.” William Sher¬ 
wood, Bishop of Meath, in 1475, drew the cord still 
tighter, and enacted that, “ any Englishman injured by 
a native not amenable to law, might reprise himself on the 
ivhole sept and nation and we find them no bettered in 
1485, when a parliament, held at Dublin, authorized the 
men of the town of Ross to reprise themselves against 
robbers, in other words, they might rob the innocent to 
regain previous losses. Now, for any reader or writer 
to sit in judgment on these laws, would be as absurd as 
to call a court to decide whether the sun shines ; they 
carry their own evidence, and need no jury. This 
William Sherwood was an English catholic, and the 
natives were likewise catholics. 

In the reign of Henry VII., a rebellion in Eng¬ 
land broke out, and the Irish barons, with the Earl of 

c 2 


28 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


Kildare at their head, rallied, declared for the Earl of 
Warwick, then a prisoner in the Tower, and crowned 
Simnel, a young man who personified the Earl of War¬ 
wick, by the title of Edward VI. The Irish chiefs lent 
their aid, invaded England, and were defeated by Henry, 
who was eventually confirmed more strongly in his 
throne. 

We are now approaching a new era, and Ireland was 
to be attached to the English crown. Three hundred 
years of ineffectual struggling by unjust and barbarous 
laws, had taught the people of England, that however 
undeserving these chieftains and “enemies” might be, 
yet a different policy must be pursued, or the already 
weakened power of English government over them would 
entirely fall, and that agrarian despotism had not that 
germ of life which would eventually produce a tree, whose 
leaves would be for the “ healing of the nations.’’ Every 
wise gardener understands that a crooked and knotty tree, 
however it may need cutting and pruning, yet this very 
cutting and pruning will require abundance of watering 
and manuring, or the tree dies. Henry saw this, and 
determined to change Ireland for the better, and chose 
Sir Edward Poyning to be the agent for effecting his 
purpose. Poyning was feared by the people, and con¬ 
nected with several of the most powerful Irish chiefs. His 
first work was to correct the self-elected body “ packed 
by the Anglo-Irish aristocracy wholly to favour its 
own interests, assembling when and how they pleased,” 
and enacting whatever might suit their own exigencies ; 
and though called by the name of parliament, it con¬ 
tained no more of its features than did the assemblies 
on the hill of Tara, among the ancient septs, nor did 
their laws approach to the well-being of the Irish as did 
those of that celebrated congregation. 

Poyning assembled a parliament at Drogheda ; and 
here the act called Poyning’s Law was passed. Let us 
compare these laws with the preceding :—First, no par¬ 
liament should be held in Ireland without the consent of 
the king of England, and for all acts to be submitted to 
it. Another was, to correct the abuses done by the barons, 


OF IRELAND. 


29 


who retained an army, made peace or war when they 
pleased ; and private wars were prohibited. “ Coyne 
and livery” were restricted, that is, the liberty of the 
English pale to quarter their army upon the natives, re¬ 
quiring food and entertainment for men, and forage for 
horses; pillage and plunder, and all manner of de¬ 
bauchery was practised. The war-cries of the barons 
were prohibited, the words were “ Farrah Farrah,” 
meaning encouragement. 

These laws had a tenfold object; first, to suppress 
the power of the barons in the English pale, and at 
the same time to extend the power of England; and it 
finally became universal through the kingdom, as the 
authority of the English government extended. 

These laws did not get into operation for some time, 
for the same reason that ever had been when any change 
was in operation —'perpetual feuds. Now the Butlers and 
Geraldines were at war, beside insurrections and inroads 
by the maddened natives, mixed up as they were with so 
many lord deputies, when the discouraged Earl of Surrey, 
then deputy, writes to Cardinal Wolsey,—“This land can 
never be brought into obedience but with compulsion and 
conquest; and most humbly I beseech your grace, that 
if the king’s pleasure be not to go thorough with the con¬ 
quest of this land, which would be a marvellous charge, 
no longer to suffer me to waste his grace’s treasure.” 

It would seem that slow advances had been made to 
subjugate these ever restless Irish, when John Alen was 
sent to England, to acquaint the king of the true state 
of Ireland ; and “ hear , hear ,” the report from a docu¬ 
ment published under authority of the English crown 
says, that the English order, tongue, and habit were 
used, and the English laws obeyed, within a district of 
“ twenty miles in compass ,” having sixty districts of 
Ireland under chieftains, and thirty under chiefs of 
Anglo-Norman descent, not acknowledging the English 
laws, and only five counties under English pale, and 
these but partially, and unless measures were adopted to 
execute the laws, this little piece would be lost. This 
report, after a long detail of the difficulties respecting 


30 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


the “wild Irish,” concludes by— “No doubt if there 
was justice used among them, they would be found as 
civil, wise, 'politic, and active as any other nation .” Let 
this be written not only in italics, but in capitals over 
the door-posts of the House of Parliament in 1850, 
Let justice once be tried for Ireland. More than three 
hundred years had England maintained a few miles of 
territory, and how much had she achieved % how much 
land had she possessed during all this struggle ? and 
what were her future prospects h 

Something must be done, and something was done. 
In the person of Henry VIII. were combined materials 
for accomplishing famous deeds. This “ Defender of 
the Faith 5 ' of the Romish Church found it convenient 
to change his faith, and took upon him the title .of 
“ Supreme Head of the Church in England.” His wives 
were only six, certainly not so many as the “ wise man” 
possessed, and though there might be some loop-holes 
in his kingship’s character, yet these could easily be 
filled by ardent and burning zeal for the church; for 
whoever refused to sign his creeds, whether catholic or 
protestant, was burned or hanged. Pie had a “ linsey- 
woolsey” garment, which was neither one or the other, 
and he is said to have sent to execution, on the same 
cart, three protestants and three catholics • the protes- 
tants were burned, the catholics hanged, drawn and 
quartered. Strange to believe that the Parliament 
should sustain such a monster; but tbe bill of the “ Six 
Articles” called the “Bloody Statute,” gives the proof 
that they not only sanctioned him, but placed unlimited 
power in his hands to enforce the basest laws. His 
object seemed to be revenge on the pope for having re¬ 
fused him a divorce, and to gratify that inordinate love 
of power and tyranny which was his predominant aim. 
To extend this power, he must needs have Ireland. 
The “ tiventy miles circuit 5 within the English pale was 
a scanty pittance for a heart that grasped the world. 
The crusade commenced. The highest dignitaries of 
the church were first assailed, and they found George 
Brown a good agent to carry on the movement. He 


OF IRELAND. 


31 


was Archbishop of Dublin, and a state church was a 
new-fangled, alluring bait, and he attempted the refor¬ 
mation without imagining what an unruly flock he had 
been tending ; the whole of Ireland was then catholic, 
yet there was the English and the Irish church. The 
English church was a tool of government, which the 
Protector Henry put there, and the latter was one of 
the people, the priests always ranging on their side 
when despotism threatened, and had well secured the 
affections of the people. These two churches were 
always at variance, separated by race, by language, and 
discipline. We are here told that the Romish church 
in Ireland have always been in opposition to the royal 
power. 

Henry first summoned a Parliament, declaring him¬ 
self head in the church, and “ his right to first-fruits 
instead of the pope,” granting to him and his heirs the 
twentieth part of the annual profits of all ecclesiastical 
promotions, and the king’s right to dispose of the king¬ 
dom of England and the lordship of Ireland by letters 
patent, or by will. Opposition arose, spiritual proctors 
were expelled from the parliament who opposed, and 
the bill was carried. Next, an act was passed to sup¬ 
press religious houses, and to confiscate the property to 
the crown, which was immediately done. 

Lord Grey, with a great army, marched through 
Ulster, and many of the chiefs submitted, and took the 
oath of supremacy. O’Neil of Ulster rallied an army, 
and marched to Tara, collected booty on his return, was 
attacked by the English, and defeated. Henry now 
reached the summit at which he was aiming—parlia¬ 
ment proclaimed him king. Great changes now took 
place. Multitudes of the Milesian chiefs changed their 
honours for those of English peerages; bonfires were 
kindled, and wine was placed in the streets, so great 
was the rejoicing. Henry took care to confer honours 
upon the greatest disturbers of the peace. O’Neil was 
created Earl of Tyrone, De Burgh Earl of Clanricarde, 
and O’Brien Earl of Thomond ; and the country, after 
these opiates were administered, had peace for a few 


32 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


years. But Edward YI. succeeded Henry, the Protector 
Somerset attempted to enforce a new liturgy upon the 
people, and the whole country rose in opposition. Ter¬ 
rible persecutions followed ; the people who had tamely 
put on the yoke of Henry, found, to their disappoint¬ 
ment, that they had sold their birthright. New coer¬ 
cive acts were passed, and soldiers were the dispensers 
of the laws to establish this Christianity of the Lord 
Jesus; churches were robbed, and the highest bidder 
took the spoils. The reformed clergy stood modestly 
aloof, not preaching more than once a year, and left the 
faithful soldiers to establish the new faith and liturgy 
by sharpness of the sword, and this was done in obedi¬ 
ence to the state. Taylor has justly said that, the 
first impression of the new system was, that “ it sanc¬ 
tioned sacrilege and robbery.” 

When Mary ascended the throne, she overturned all 
this religion, and scattered the liturgy to the four winds, 
burning no less than three hundred persons, who were 
protestants, in England ; but in Ireland she had no 
burning to do—all cheerfully submitted, and not a life 
was taken. Many protestants left England, and fled to 
Ireland, where, though the country was catholic, yet 
they were allowed to worship unmolested, as they pleased. 
Mary found but little to do in Ireland, excepting extir¬ 
pating the septs of O’Connors and O’Moores, in the 
counties named King and Queen’s County ; these were 
then called Leix and O’Falley. The English, to do this, 
perpetrated the most horrible massacres, and commemo¬ 
rated their bloody deeds by naming the chief towns of 
these counties Philipstown and Maryborough, after the 
king and queen. 

I cannot pass to the next reign without pausing and 
turning back, to look at the incipient steps of the estab¬ 
lishment of a national church in Ireland. In the first 
place, the instruments were base, and the carrying it on 
unchristian, and its continuance hated by the majority. 
Scattered through the length and breadth of the island 
are aggravating mementos of the ravages of brutal sol¬ 
diers, who demolished, in part or entire, the most beau- 


OF IRELAND. 


33 


tiful churches, which, in the early ages of Ireland, were 
her highest ambition to adorn. Their ravenous hearts 
and hands have spared some few from the wreck, which 
they have fitted up and botched over, to chant their 
prayers to the victorious arm of Jehovah, who, they 
assure you, led them forth to the battle. The catholics 
look tacitly on, but what their hearts feel may be better 
told, should they get the ascendancy—but let it be re¬ 
corded that all writers of integrity agree in this, that 
the catholics of Ireland have never shown that perse¬ 
cuting spirit that other portions of her body have done, 
when they had an opportunity ; that is, they have never 
been aggressors; when they have been pounced upon, 
they have resisted, but even in their hottest rebellions 
they have spared many protestants whose lives and pro¬ 
perty have been in their power, when they have found 
them disposed to do justice. Gordon, who was a pres- 
byterian minister, and lived in the rebellion of ’98, 
writes, that as a just historian, he must say that the 
catholics showed a more conciliatory spirit towards their 
enemies than did their enemies to them, and that he and 
his family were preserved from the wholesale destruction 
which was promiscuously overwhelming all classes, by 
the kindness of a catholic priest, who warned him of 
danger, and protected him from it, because he had seen 
in him a desire to do justice. The same kindness was 
shown to his brother, who was a clergyman of the 
national church: he and his family were taken by a 
priest, and concealed and fed for a fortnight, from the 
mob, and then removed to a place of safety. He adds, 
that he was rebuked for acknowledging these favours, as 
they tended to flatter the catholics. But we are told 
that popery is the same in every heart and every clime 
—that her spirit is bitter and her anathemas merciless. 
The world has certainly found it so by fearful experi¬ 
ence ; inquisitions have exhausted their ingenuity in 
inventing tortures, and ceased at last more by compul¬ 
sion than good-will. But is it easier to die by protes- 
tant torture than by catholic racks ; and whoever 
doubts that protestants can torture, let them not only 

c 3 


34 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


read the rapacious wholesale butcheries of the Irish 
catholics in Elizabeth’s reign, but see the effects of these 
butcheries all over that desolate island. In no country 
has popery left more visible mementos of her blighting 
touch than has protestantism here ; in no country has 
she more boldly said, “ Give me your conscience, or I 
will not only kill but eat you,” than have the protes- 
tants of Ireland. 

The catholics of Ireland, before the days of Adrian, were 
even a more liberal and religious people than any other ; 
and it was long before they nominally put on the yoke 
of the pope, and their submission then was more outivard 
than inward; yet, from age to age have they gradually 
conformed to all the dogmas of that church in worship, 
clinging to their priests, because from generation to 
generation they had been interwoven with all classes— 
the poor as well as the rich ; and when they found them¬ 
selves in the grasp of a full-fed , full-paid , aristocracy, 
who were demolishing their churches, confiscating their 
lands, and enforcing a religion upon them by a soldiery, 
who violated and killed their women, who wantonly 
destroyed all who would not attend their worship, which 
was performed in an unknown tongue, (for the English 
language was not so well understood by most of the com¬ 
mon people, as was the Latin in which the priest per¬ 
formed mass ;) and beside, the exhortations from the 
altar were always in their own tongue, the Irish lan¬ 
guage, What must , it is asked, be the consequence? Had 
the protestants manifested at least a tolerable spirit of 
the gospel; had they come among them in kindness, and 
manifested that it was love, not power — Jesus Christ , and 
not English government —they were wishing to introduce, 
they might now have been in heart a united people, whose 
God is the Lord. 


OF IRELAND. 


3 5 


CHAPTER IV. 

“ Elizabeth, ye need not live again to be remembered. 


We now approach a fearful crisis ; Mary’s burning was 
a prelude to the mighty conflagration that was about to 
devastate not only England but Ireland. Elizabeth was 
not to be turned aside from any favourite object, and 
whoever opposed her will did it at his peril. On her 
ascendancy she ordered all Mary’s “ got up ” catholic 
clergy to disband—to take olf the frocks of the pope 
and put on hers; and, like magic, no sooner said than 
done. And we are informed, that among the immense 
host which Mary had established, not more than 200 
demurred, but instantly all put on the yoke of “ Queen 
Bessand certainly many of them have found it “ easy, 
and the “ burden light.” And though, when she intro¬ 
duced her dogmas into Ireland, many of the English pale 
there turned over to protestantism, yet the majority oi 
the Irish clergy stood fast. Leland says ?< “ The greater 
part of the prelates were such as quietly enjoyed their sees, 
by conforming occasionally to different modes of religion. 
And to this day is the practice quite common, for those 
who have been bribed into the protestant church, to carry 
a protestant prayer-book to the place of worship, and say 
the catholic prayers while the service is going on , and 
this they do not deny. 

When the queen met those incorrigible clergy, and 
found that her act of parliament had not taken effect, 
what must be done 1 ? She ordered racks, and they were 
“ tortured, hanged, and quartered ; ” many of them had 
their brains beaten out upon the highway ; and an equal 
premium was offered for a wolf’s head and the head of 
a priest. The Earl of Essex, the queen’s deputy, found 
O’Neil struggling for the mastery of Ulster j Munster 
was stirred up by the Butlers and Geraldines, and Con¬ 
naught by the Be Burghs. She convened a parliament, 


36 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


and passed the “ Acts of Supremacy and Conformity,’ 
for the re-establishment of the protestant worship. They 
handed over from the pope to the queen, the spiritual 
power to decide all errors in the church. And now, 
reader, what must be expected from an ambitious, un~ 
godly, talented woman, invested with power like this ? 
And who would not be as willing that a pope should 
lord it over the conscience as a woman ? If a creed of 
faith must be concocted by ungodly men and women in 
power, and the length of prayers be enacted by an act of 
parliament, why not as well be bowing the knee and 
counting the beads before some Peter or James hung 
upon the wall, who are now in heaven, as to be kneeling 
over the gilt-edged leaves of a book whose prayers are 
indited by a spirit, which savors outwardly at least, of 
proselytism more than of the Holy Ghost, and the repeat¬ 
ing of which serves to keep in remembrance the perse¬ 
cuting hearts, which u inwardly digested ” and outwardly 
pictured them for the more insinuating purposes of the 
church’s idolatry. But, leaving, the prayers , let us de¬ 
scend to practicals. Here we find enough ; the clergy who 
remained firm were driven from their posts and English 
shepherds substituted, which history has reported as 
being men of dissolute habits, greedy, covetous, and 
slothful; besides, they did not know a syllable of the 
language, as before has been stated ; and the Irish, rather 
than submit to this rule imposed upon them, were slain 
by wholesale. Attempts were made to provoke them to 
rebellion against one another. In this they succeeded 
with John O’Neil, under pretence that he was intending 
to rebel. They sent a force against him ; a truce was 
effected between the lord-deputy and himself; and the 
chief, in all the novel habiliments of a “ wild Irish ” 
leader, appeared before Queen Elizabeth, who was so 
smitten with admiration that she yielded to his requests, 
and he returned to Ireland laden with new honours, and 
confirmed in all his vast estates. English agents in 
Ireland were incensed at this—were continually repre¬ 
senting to the queen that he was a dangerous man, and 
on the eve of insurrection. She only answered, “ If he 


OF IRELAND. 


37 


revolts there will then he estates enough for you all.” 
Taking advantage of this answer, her agents construed it 
into a liberty to provoke a revolt; they prepared their en¬ 
gines; O’Neil at first succeeded, but was afterwards over¬ 
whelmed—fled to the Hebrides. The Scots, glad to get a 
chief in their power who had once routed and slaughtered 
them, instigated by a British officer, slew him, and sent 
his head to Dublin. A bill was immediately passed by 
a packed parliament for a forfeiture of his estates, and 
vesting them in the crown. 

The Earl of Desmond was now an object of plunder. 
He possessed vast estates in Munster, was an Anglo- 
Norman, and bold and powerful ; he refused obedience 
to the lord deputy—was seized and sent to the Tower 
in London ; at last he escaped, returned, and was at the 
head of his sept; the government made a superficial truce 
with him, his kinsmen immediately brought a force 
of Spaniards to re-conquer Ireland ; the government 
w'ere enraged—he was ordered to surrender—refusing, 
he was declared a traitor, and the most frightful war and 
massacres ensued. He boldly stood out for a time, cap¬ 
tured the town of Youghal, defeating the Earl of Ormond. 
Lord Grey now put forth his brutal strength. Newly 
appointed to the station of lord deputy, he determined 
to act like a lord, and hearing that a small Spanish force 
had reached Munster with money and arms for 5000 
men, he attacked the garrison of Limerick in Kerry, and 
they soon surrendered themselves to mercy, but quickly 
proved how cruel are the “ tender mercies of the wicked,” 
for they were all ordered to be butchered. Leland writes, „ 
that Wingfield was honoured with power to disarm them, 
when an English company was sent into the fort and 
butchered the whole of them ! Here we find Walter 
Raleigh at the head ; Spenser too did his part, and after¬ 
wards we hear him giving this advice : He recommended 
that the Irish should be granted twenty days to come 
and submit, after this no mercy should be shown, those 
who escaped the sword should be starved. His own 
words are, “ The end will, I assure mee, bee very short, 
and much sooner than it can be in so great a trouble as 


38 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


it seemetli hoped for, although there should none of 
them fall by the sword, nor be slain by the soldiour, yet 
thus being kept from manuranee, and their cattle from 
running abroad, by this hard restraint, they would 
quietly consume themselves, and devour one another.” 

Reader, do you believe this advice was heeded h Lord 
Grey set his men at work in earnest; butcheries of men, 
women, and cattle followed, the • entire country of the 
Desmond estates was depopulated, Desmond was hunted 
into a cave or retreat in the wilds by Kelly, his head cut 
off and sent to Ormond, who forwarded it to the queen 
as a specimen of English valour and civilization then in 
Ireland. 

Munster had little more to suffer, and Queen Elizabeth 
was informed that there was little else for her majesty to 
reign over than “carcasses and ashes,'” and one writer 
says, that for “six-score miles, whoever should travel, 
would find neither man, woman, or child, saving in 
towns or cities, nor yet see any beast but the very 
wolves, the foxes, and other like ravenous beasts.” 

The details of different w r riters are so horrid, that they 
would seem incredible, but facts, yes living-scathing facts, 
remain to attest that Ireland, above all other lands, has 
been steeped in cruel suffering, and the “smoke of her 
torment” is still ascending. In that age of Lord Grey, we 
hear that Ireland w r as 11 purified.” Sir Walter Raleigh, 
shall it be repeated, had 40,000 acres in the county of 
Cork allotted to him, out of the GOO,000 acres of arable 
land made over to the crown, for his massacre of the 
Spanish garrison at Limerick, and one of the conditions 
of these grants were, that none but English tenants 
should occupy them ; the Irish w'ere to be excluded, but 
they could not cultivate the land without Irish labourers, 
the plantations failed, and Irishmen again composed the 
rural districts. 

John Perrot succeeded Grey, and was the reverse of 
his predecessor, endeavouring to allay all riots and 
instigations to war, and to give the country a just and 
impartial government; but in every movement his 
good intentions were thwarted; greedy officials under 


OF IRELAND. 


39 


government loved gain and plunder better than peace, 
and this good lord returned to England disgusted and 
disheartened, for he saw that it was determined, and 
connived at, as sound policy, to stir up the rebels occa¬ 
sionally, and “let them destroy one another;” for should 
they succeed in reducing the country to good order and 
civility, they would acquire power and riches, and then 
become alienated from England. “ Let us rather con¬ 
nive at their disorders.” This authority is no less than 
Leland and “ Hibernia Parata,” from Sir George Carew. 

Let the patchings and botchings, the shutting up in 
workhouses, piling up broken stores mountain high by 
the starved labourers testify that any thing and every 
thing but justice and opportunity for a respectable 
standing among the nations of the earth must suffice; 
rather than give them equal rights and power, better 
daub them with temporary kindness when actually 
starving , than pull down their mud cabins, and send 
them to die like beasts upon the mountains. This is 
actually the condition of the wretched inhabitants in 
the Christian era of 1850. Thomas Perrot would have 
gladly averted these calamities, but had not power. 

In Ulster Hugh O’Neil was restored to his estates, 
but jealousies were raised that protestantism was in 
danger, and what was wished that he should do, was 
attempted to provoke him to do , and the desire was 
accomplished. Sir John Norris and Lord Burgh prose¬ 
cuted a vigorous war without success ; He Burgh was 
slain near Armagh. Sir Henry Bagnal then undertook 
to subdue O’Neil; the armies met near the same place, 
1500 of the royal army was slain, Bagnal fell, and much 
property in arms and ammunition, and great hopes were 
entertained that full emancipation was at hand for the 
Irish. O’Neil with much cunning management united 
many of the rival chiefs to combine and resist England ; 
he then applied to Spain, and was encouraged with 
assistance, and all looked like sunshine to the hopeful 
Irish. 

The ever w r akeful Elizabeth was upon the alert. 
Essex was furnished with 20,000 men, and sent to meet 


40 


LIGHTS AXD SHADES 


the bold O’Neil, who was not in the least intimidated; 
but Essex took another route through the desolate land 
of Munster, and there met with nothing but a “ plucking 
of feathers” from his gay army by the wild Irish, and 
the place is now known as the “ Pass of the Plumes.” 
He next marched against O’Neil; but the chief, by 
gallantry and cunning, established a truce. The queen 
was incensed. Essex returned in disgrace, and Mount- 
joy, more skilled in war, with a well-disciplined army, 
was substituted. O’Neil would not at first be drawn 
into an engagement. Spain sent him 2000 men with 
an imbecile leader, Hon Juan d’Aquila; he landed in 
the south, and was blockaded by Mountjoy. O’Neil 
hurried to the rescue, and blockaded Mountjoy, who 
thus lay between both armies; but the unwise Spaniards 
determined to attack them by night; spies revealed the 
project to the English, who defeated the Spaniards, and 
O’Neil retreated to his quarters in the north. 

Mountjoy pursued the same course with the north as 
had been done in Munster, destroying everything that 
fell in his way, and the state of the country drove the 
inhabitants to such fearful straits, that children fed on 
the flesh of their parents, and some old women were 
taken and executed for catching little girls, who were 
sent to drive out cattle in cold mornings, and killing 
and eating them. Morrison, who mentions this in his 
History of Ireland, says that Captain Trevor sent his 
soldiers to ascertain the facts, and the children’s skulls 
and bones were found near the spot. 

O’Neil struggled long, but his army was wasted by 
famine ; many were bribed by the English, and he at 
last was forced to terms of accommodation with the 
English. Mountjoy had the honour to grant him the 
benefits of his own estates, and the exercise of the 
catholic religion. 

To detail the horrors of the reign of Queen Elizabeth 
would be disgusting and needless. She has done her 
work, and left an impress that can never be effaced ; 
while a shepherd boy lives among the rocks and wilds 
of that stricken country, the name of “ Elizabeth” will 


OF IRELAND. 


41 


be held in hated remembrance. Here she hung and 
quartered a priest —there the nails of another were pulled 
out and he cut open ; some were hanged, beheaded, and 
then drawn in quarters. One bishop in 1593 had his 
legs immersed in jack-boots filled with quicklime and 
water, to force him to take the oath of supremacy, and 
then executed on the gallows. Now all this was done 
under the pretence of honour to the religion of Christ; 
this butchering by wholesale under any and every pre¬ 
tence continued till this sanguinary woman had laid 
waste nearly the whole of that beautiful island. She 
went on from “ conquering to conquerwhen her 
ravenous soldiers had won a battle, the terms of peace 
were demolishing churches, forcing the oath of supre¬ 
macy upon the people, or putting to death by the most 
cruel tortures. The most dishonourable means were 
used to kill and destroy all that remained of what was 
hostile to her faith. People were invitedvto feasts, and 
such too as had been peaceable belonging to the gentry, 
and then every one murdered. They went with assu¬ 
rances of protection, and were “ cut to pieces, and not a 
single one escaped .” This was in Rathmore, where in 
answer to a kind proclamation of the queen, given to 
all the well-affected of the Irish, they had assembled, 
when lines of English “horse and foot surrounded these 
well-disposed credulous visitors, and destroyed with 
ruthless barbarity every one. 

Bryan O’Neil was invited with his friends to another 
entertainment, and feasted three days, then an army 
surprised them, and men, women, and children were 
massacred. O’Neil, his brother and wife, were sent to 
Dublin and cut in quarters. We are answered fre¬ 
quently, when these facts are stated, that they are old 
stories, long since past—that Elizabeth is dead, and these 
things should be forgotten ; forgiven they should be, but 
how can they be forgotten. The type of oppression is 
often a stereotyped one, and must always be, so long as 
the causes of these oppressions remain unmoved. But 
look at Ireland now. Stale as the story may be, it must be 
reiterated till her wrongs are redressed—till that “bright 


42 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


spot in the ocean” may look out in all the primitive 
beauty in which she was adorned before the hand of 
tyranny grasped her—yes, grating as the sound may be to 
refined ears, it has been oppression that has brought her 
to wring the last dregs of bitterness she is now tasting ; 
and humiliating as the statement must be, it is an 
oppression of so-called Bible Christianity —this parcel¬ 
ling out of lands to rapacious officers and soldiers, who 
would kill and quarter the most effectually, was the 
handiwork of those who tell you that their creed is 
based on the law of love —of doing to others as they 
would that others should do unto them ; and were I 
obliged to answer impartially what is the great , the 
monster evil of Ireland, I would say holding the truth in 
unrighteousness , planting the protestant faith by the 
sword, upon gardens and fields which they had ruthlessly 
plundered, and watering these fields by the blood of the 
slain, and then sanctimoniously crying out “idolatry , 
idolatry, priestcraft and worshipping of saints,” is the 
grand evil of Ireland. It is idolatry, it is the worshipping 
of so-called saints that is the bane of Ireland—this mam¬ 
mon worship of the world, this taking from the original 
inhabitants the soil where they drew their first breath, 
and this cringing adherence to living images in the shape 
of kings, queens, and lord deputies, that have proved 
the temporal as well as spiritual evil of Ireland. 

“ Why should I read your blackguard book,” said a 
shrewd Irishman, “ when it tells you to tear down 
churches, take away lands from the poor, and put them 
to fadin’ on the scrawl of a root that the vagabond of a 
Raleigh brought into the land.” 

Coarse as this expression may be, it is full of sound 
politics and theology; it throws you upon the broad 
basis of truth, and nails you there ; dispute it who can, 
reflect upon it who will. 

Go back to first principles, if you would find a truth, 
or eradicate an error, all else is putting a new piece into 
an old garment —“the rent is made worse! 

Elizabeth reigned fifty years, and her footsteps are 
marked with cruelty and blood; these footsteps were not 


OF IRELAND. 


43 


made in the sand, and it would seem that her successors, 
most of them, have been careful that the engraving 
should not be effaced—they have garnished the sepul¬ 
chres which she built, and now they cry out persecution, 
idolatry, to all who will not admire and worship their 
pretty golgotha. 


CHAPTER V. 

“ As your fathers did, so do ye.” 

We now come to James. Elizabeth had “pacified'’ Ire¬ 
land by racks, gibbets, dungeons, and the gallows; she 
had expended £3,000,000. sterling on this work, had 
drenched the soil with the blood of her own sons and 
the “ wild Irish,” and as she was told had “ carcases and 
ashes” to reign over in the end. But protestantism icas 
established, and it was left for James to put this protes¬ 
tantism into full play. Penal laws were in force, and 
his first work was to liberate all from prisons, except 
murderers and papists, and he boldly declared that he 
would grant no toleration to catholics, and would leave 
an everlasting curse on his posterity if they did not 
follow in his wake. The penal laws had prohibited that 
the catholics should hold any public worship, and com¬ 
pelled them to assist in protestant worship on Sundays 
and holidays ; spies were set, who were called inquisi¬ 
tors, to report of any absentees, and the delinquents were 
imprisoned and fined. A few in Leinster and Munster, 
who had ventured to hold public worship, were pounced 
upon by an army under Mountjoy, Cork was besieged 
and yielded, Waterford, Clonmel, and Cashel retracted, 
peace was restored, and protestant worship triumphant, 
and James issued a proclamation, which, though it has 
been often copied, it may do well to read again :— 
“ Whereas his majesty is informed that his subjects of 
Ireland have been deceived by false report , that his 



44 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


majesty was disposed to allow them liberty of conscience 
and the free choice of a religion, he hereby declares to 
his beloved subjects of Ireland, that he will not admit of 
any such liberty of conscience, as they were made to 
expect by such report.” Accusations of plots were then 
made against the catholics, they were condemned with¬ 
out proof, their lands were confiscated, and the gun¬ 
powder plot, which remains to this day doubtful from 
what source, yet it proved a possession of not less than 
six entire counties to the crown in the north—Armagh, 
Cavan, Fermanagh, Derry, and Donegal. The Earls of 
Tyrone and Tyrconnel were the accused, and Sir Cahir 
O’Doherty, who resisted the government, was put down; 
and he, with the earls, saw his lands made over to the 
crown. The natives were driven into the mountains, 
and the Scotch and English took possession of land and 
houses. James had to contend with an old English 
party, who were catholics, descended from the barons of 
the pale, yet these had always stood aloof from Irish 
catholics, whom they had conquered ; but the English 
government found all catholics alike, and James now 
summoned a parliament, and by one blow created four¬ 
teen new peers, put forty of the villages, which were 
most miserable, into boroughs, under the will of the 
crown. Opposition followed, but, by dint of manage¬ 
ment, James found cause to thank Sir Arthur Chichester 
for giving him so much of the confiscated lands, and 
then distributed them among English and Scotch, who 
were required to let no persons of Irish descent reside on 
the lands, neither should catholics, either English or 
Irish, have any inheritance among them. 

Hence follows in London the Irish Society, which 
consists of the city of Derry, Coleraine, the fisheries, 
&c., bringing a revenue of £12,000. a-year. James 
went on, searched the old records in the Tower for flaws, 
always happy to find them ; and jurors and witnesses 
were fined, cropped, &c., if they did not swear to suit 
the officers. And here is traced the foundation of that 
family’s possession, now owned by the Earl of Rosse; 
and so great was the king’s success that more than a 



OF IRELAND. 


45 


million of acres were added to the crown. He now 
undertook with Connaught, was about succeeding, when 
death took him home to a permanent patrimony in 
1625. 

Charles, his son, succeeded, and though leaning to 
Catholicism, he had a minister who was prepared for any 
work against Ireland, and him he sent there, while he 
and Laud were contending at home, Laud for religious 
power, and he for political. The despotism of the Stuarts 
had brought England into a fearful state: profligacy 
reigned in the court, the liberty of the press was shackled, 
and the higher classes were in a state of gross immo¬ 
rality. 

The middle classes aroused, and education revived, 
and with it a political independence : the despotism of 
Charles could not find full scope. The church took him 
under her wing; and now the Connaught landowners, 
fearing he would pursue the path that James had com¬ 
menced, called a meeting in Dublin, and agreed to loan 
him the sum of ,£120,000., payable in three years, on 
the following rational conditions :—“ proper security 
of their lands, administration of justice, the freedom of 
industry, regulation of the clergy, the restraining of 
tyranny of ecclesiastical courts, and the prevention of 
inquiries into the titles of estates after a limited period.” 
Charles granted them, with the flattering title of “ The 
Graces.’’ He secured the money, and the next edict 
was, that the catholics should forbear their religious 
ceremonies. “ The Graces” were not confirmed, and 
Wentworth was sent to Ireland to suppress the clamour 
which Connaught men were making. He summoned a 
parliament at Dublin, told them that two sessions would 
be held, one for granting of subsidies, another in re¬ 
gard to the redress of grievances. The next day six 
subsidies were demanded, and immediately granted. 
What next ? Eight more subsidies from the clergy 
were next granted. They had given him their money, 
and now for “ The Graces” and redress of grievances. 
The session was opened, the catholics were opposed and 
defeated ; the protestants expected a reward—they were 


46 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


denied. The session closed, and Wentworth sent to 
Charles, “ that, through his deputy, he was now as abso¬ 
lute a king in Ireland as any prince in the whole world 
can be.” Now he turned attention to protestant con¬ 
formity, to the increase of the army, to public revenue, 
and trade ; established the linen trade in Ulster, and the 
result in five years was an increase of revenue amount¬ 
ing to £60,000. per annum. 

Next poor Connaught’s “ Graces” were followed by 
packed juries, who, if not willing to be bribed, must 
submit to have their ears cropped, their tongues bored, 
or their foreheads marked with a red-hot iron, if a 
favourable verdict was not given to the crowrn. Roscom¬ 
mon, Mayo, Sligo, and Leitrim, rather than lose ears and 
suffer hot-iron brandings, submitted ; Galway opposed ; 
the jury were cited to Dublin Castle and fined <£4000. 
each, and the sheriff who collected them £9000. This 
just severity, Wentworth remarked, would make all 
succeeding districts submit quietly. 

His exactions continued, till discontent in Ireland 
drove him to the English court; there he was flattered 
and returned to Ireland ; but his true character was 
becoming known. He endeavoured to maintain his self- 
respect “ built a splendid palace at Naas; kept a troop 
of one hundred horse and fifty servants; and his old 
castle remains a hated wreck, called “ Black Tom ” by 
the natives. 

The Scotch now rose against Charles, and Wentwmrth 
hastened to relieve him. Laud attempted to impose a 
creed which the Scotch would not bear; but Wentworth 
failed for want of means. He returned to Ireland as 
Earl of Strafford ; demanded four subsidies—they were 
granted. In a short time this Irish parliament began to 
think they were fostering a tyrant, turned against him. 
He left Ireland and marched against the "Scots with 
4000 Irish troops. Ormond had a commission to bring 
over his 20,000 men from Ireland. Another parliament 
was called, and ended by impeaching Strafford with high 
treason. He was executed accordingly. Wentworth is 
dead, but Ireland is not free. She has parties of all 


OF IRELAND. 


47 


sorts in her precincts ; native Irish, English catholics of 
the pale, called “ recusants,” royalists, that is, English 
settlers on the estates confiscated by King James, the 
parliamentarians, meaning the puritans of the pale, and 
the Scotch presbyterians of Ulster. What bold Goliath 
would challenge such a host as this ? Charles had men 
to whom he had entrusted power, in the persons of Sir 
John Borlase and Sir William Parsons, who were his 
enemies, and whom the Irish hated. Government was 
nearly ineffectual in the hands of these men, and serious 
fears were raised that the catholics were about to revolt. 
The natives who had been driven into the wilds by King 
James, when he took from them their estates, were ready 
for any onset that would restore to them their lands. 
The Connaught people were alarmed ; the catholics of 
the pale were in fear of the puritans, who had threatened 
to exterminate them ; and in the Plouse of Commons, 
Sir John Clotworthy stated, that “ the conversion of the 
papists in Ireland was only to be effected by the bible in 
one hand, and the sword in the other.” Mr. Pym is 
stated to have said that, “ they would not leave a priest 
in Ireland.” It has been supposed that these statements 
were made to stir the catholics to rebellion, that they 
might in good earnest confiscate their property and drive 
them from the country. The catholics were alarmed, 
rallied from different parts of Europe, and the result was, 
the Irish who had been driven from their holdings to 
the mountains had not become more civilised, by being 
driven to dwell with wild beasts, and they rushed with 
impetuosity upon the settlers, and drove them like 
frighted sheep in every direction. Roger Moore and Sir 
Phelim O’Neil were the leaders. 

The character of O’Moore was peculiarly interesting : 
he had a warm and generous heart; he was descended 
from the family of O’Moore in King’s County, who had 
been expelled in the reign of Queen Mary, and the wrongs 
of his country and family were stinging him to the heart. 
He was accomplished in his manners, had been educated 
on the continent, and while there he met with O’Neil, 
of Ulster; but he was not distinguished by refinement of 


48 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


manners, or nobleness of heart, possessing more revenge 
than forgiveness, and he entered fully and faithfully into 
a conspiracy to overthrow the English power in Ireland. 
Others of like fortunes, who had been driven from their 
homes, united with these two as leaders, and an insur¬ 
rection commenced. 

Awful atrocities were committed on both sides. But 
Dr. Taylor, a protestant writer, says, that the charge 
against the catholics, that this war was to crush the pro¬ 
testant religion, is false ; it was a war for property rather 
than religion; to get back their estates and banish the 
penal laws was their aim. That there was a wholesale 
massacre of protestants, he says, is false, but that both 
fought without mercy cannot be denied. 

The rich catholics remaining in Ireland sued for 
clemency from the king, only asking the free exercise of 
their religion, and a repeal of the penal laws. Sir Charles 
Coote answered these requests by going out “ with an 
army and butchering men, women, and children, priests 
and people, without any discrimination. Sucking infants 
were butchered, many were roasted to death, and in the 
town of Wicklow his barbarity was almost unparalleled. 
From this butchery he went to Dublin, and was made 
governor.” 

From Curry we have a record of the Scotch puritan 
soldiers, garrisoned at Carrickfergus. When the news 
of the insurrection reached them, 3000 unarmed men, 
women, and children, in the island of Magee, were cruelly 
butchered by these soldiers ! 

The Irish parliament would gladly have averted the 
horrors of a civil war, but the lord justices thwarted all 
their purposes ; the catholics of the pale offered to aid 
the government in putting down the insurrection ; they 
were rejected, disarmed, and sent from Dublin. They 
hoped by this to place the gentry in a condition which 
would compel them to receive the insurgents, which 
would appear that they had treasonable designs under¬ 
stood by each other. These rejected men were soon 
summoned to appear in Dublin to answer to the charge \ 
they assembled at Swords, and resolved that they would 


OF IRELAND. 


49 


not comply, for tlie brutal doings of Charles Coote had 
made them fear for their lives, and they now must act 
upon the defensive. They met on the hill of the cele¬ 
brated Tara, drew up a petition to the king, stating 
their true condition, and the necessity of doing some¬ 
thing for self-preservation. The whole country was now 
in commotion. Moore and his associate leaders lost no 
time ; neither did Sir William St. Leger, the English 
president of Munster, who was cruel in the extreme to 
the native inhabitants. 

Moore and his comrades had possessed the most of 
Ulster and Leinster, and the cruelties of St. Leger 
drove Munster to unite with them, and soon Moore had 
nearly all Munster at his command. While in these 
prosperous movements, Moore forbid all retaliation upon 
the private property and life of the protestants. 

But confiscation of property rapidly went on. Parsons 
and Borlase found bills of high-treason against all the 
catholic nobility and gentry of Meath, Wicklow, Dublin, 
and Kildare. Then the Earl of Ormond was appointed 
commander-in-chief of the royal army, and commanded 
to burn, waste, consume and demolish every vestige of 
houses and towns where the rebels had been relieved, and 
to kill all the male inhabitants capable of bearing arms. 

The fearful document thus reads :— 

“ It is resolved, that it is fit that his lordship do en¬ 
deavour, with his Majesty’s forces, to waste, kill, slay, 
and destroy, by all the means he may, all the said rebels, 
their adherents and relievers, and burn, spoil, waste, 
consume, destroy, and demolish all the places, towns, and 
houses, where the said rebels are, or have been relieved 
or harboured, and all the hay and corn there ; and kill 
and destroy all the men there capable to bear arms.” 
Given at his Majesty’s Castle of Dublin, 22nd February, 
1642. 

These orders, the justices declare, were executed, not 
sparing the women, and sometimes not the children. 
“ Sir W. Cole’s regiment killed two thousand five hun¬ 
dred rebels in several engagements,’" and also “there 
were starved and famished of the vulgar sort, whose 

D 


50 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


goods were seized upon this by this regiment, seven 
thousand.” 

Sir Philip O’Neil had an army of 30,000, possessing 
all Ulster ; the government had some strongholds; and 
the open country belonged to the “ rebels.” The par¬ 
liament enacted more penal laws, then applied to govern¬ 
ment to send them more severe ones against the recu¬ 
sants, and all the return was an allowance to sell two 
millions and a-half of acres, confiscated by the lords 
justices, and prevent Charles, with whom they were now 
contending, entering into any terms with the Irish. 
The war flagged : the insurgents became weary, and the 
English settlers rallied sufficient to keep their ground. 
The object of the insurgents was now only to come to 
some terms with government, asking only the free exer¬ 
cise of their religion, and preservation of their lives and 
property. They were refused—another battle—the in¬ 
surgents were defeated, seven hundred being killed ; but 
Ormond, for want of provisions and ammunition, ceased. 
The government voted him five hundred pounds for a 
jewel, and he was created a Knight of the Garter. All was 
now in suspense ; skirmishes were frequent by detached 
parties. St. Leger died shut up, besieged in Cork ; 
Lord Inquichin succeeded him, and sent Lord Eorbes 
at the head of 1,200 troops, but he refused uniting with 
them, “ declaring he would not keep company with any 
but the godly.” In his depredations, he made no choice 
between rebels and royalists ; but not getting up a re¬ 
bellion, he dug up the graves and burnt the dead, and 
returned to his home, leaving Lord Inquichin to fight or 
run away, as he found best; fighting awhile with some 
success, he at last failed. The Scotch, headed by 
Monroe, with 2,500 men, landed at Carrickfergus, took 
it; joined by 1,800 royalists, they marched to Newry, 
and took that. Monroe then killed sixty men , eighteen 
women, and two priests, and returned to Carrickfergus. 
The Earl of Antrim was duped by Monroe, who visited 
his castle, at Dunluce, under the guise of friendship— 
was kindly received : when the entertainment was con¬ 
cluded, he gave signs to his followers, made the Earl 


OF IRELAND. 


51 


prisoner, seized liis castle, and the Scottish forces took 
possession. 

The Irish became disheartened, when a little hope 
dawned in the person of Owen Roe O’Neil, a grand¬ 
nephew of Hugh O'Neil. In him were combined the 
brave, the generous, the tender-hearted, the sagacious, 
and calm. He was qualified to command, and his first 
proclamation was, that if the cruelties practised by 
Phelim O’Neil were to be repeated, he would return to 
the continent. 

Owen O’Neil defeated Monroe, and the confederate 
forces gained ground, when a rebellion broke out in 
England. 

Among all these turmoils a little oasis breaks upon 
the eye. The confederates feeling that they possessed 
the most of Ireland, resolved on having a civil govern¬ 
ment. They assembled at Kilkenny with the priests, 
who declared, that belonging as they did to the Irish 
people, sympathising and suffering with them, duty 
impelled them to aid in the struggle for liberty which 
they were maintaining. 

They passed resolutions to this effect: first, “ That all 
distinction between the native Irish and the old English 
should cease. Second, That they would defend and up¬ 
hold the royal authority, though now they would not 
obey the king’s orders until they were certified by his 
own agents of his real intention. Third, They de¬ 
nounced neutrality, forbid under pain of great penalties 
any retaliation on protestants, and upheld the free ex¬ 
ercise of the catholic religion without claiming any ex¬ 
clusive privilege over others. And lastly, they ordained 
that the local government should be carried on by pro¬ 
vincial assemblies composed of laity and clergy, and the 
chief authority lodged in the national council.” 

Wise politicians are left to decide whether these reso¬ 
lutions were timely rational and good, and whether the 
national assembly which concocted the following acts at 
the same place was a judicious one. Deputies from every 
county assembled, protesting that they did not assemble as 
a regular parliament, but as a meeting to regulate public 


52 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


affairs till the country should be better settled. They 
agreed to maintain the common laws of England as far 
as they were not contrary to the national religion, or 
the national liberties, and to maintain the rights of the 
catholic church agreeable to the great charter; to each 
county was allotted a council consisting of twelve per¬ 
sons, whose duty was to decide all matters cognizable 
by justices of the peace, pleas of the crown, and suits of 
debt and personal action ; from these an appeal to the 
provincial councils, who were to meet four times a year 
by two deputies from each county, and hold courts some¬ 
thing like those of judges of assizes ; from these an ap¬ 
peal to “ the supreme council of the confederate catholics 
of Ireland.” Twenty-four persons composed this body, 
exercising the functions of the executive government. 
Nine members were to compose a council, and a majority 
of two-thirds to decide on any measure. 

Now here is Ireland, it would seem, rising a little 
from her deep pit, while England is agitated by intes¬ 
tine divisions. Charles is suspected of being a little too 
vascillating ; they could not hold him on the same spot 
where they placed him, or where he placed himself; 
they could not trust him, and he must be dislodged. 
He had a friend in the Earl of Ormond, to whom he 
looked for help ; and though he had duped again and 
again the confederates to wait for his “ Graces,” till most 
had become quite weary ; yet he again succeeded, and 
the loyalist Ormond was getting into a position to carry 
out his persecutions to his heart’s content against the 
catholics and native Irish, who well understood and 
protested against the treachery. The English catholics 
prevailed. Ormond stipulated for a supply of £30,000 
for the king, and then declared against all proposals in 
favour of the catholics or “ mere Irish,” and he followed 
out most faithfully his treacherous machinations. The 
sum total may be told in these words from the parlia¬ 
ment, “ God hath pleased to bless our endeavours with 
such success, as that those furious blood-thirsty papists 
have been stopped in the career of their cruelty; some 
part of the protestant Hood has been avenged , their mas ~ 


OF IRELAND. 


53 

s acres, burnings, and famishings have, by a divine reta¬ 
liation, been repaid into their bosoms, and by the re¬ 
markable judgment of God they are reduced to so terrible 
a famine, that, like cannibals, they eat one another ? 

This language certainly illy becomes the lips of puri¬ 
tans. The catholics again solicited the abolition of the 
penal laws, but Ormond who had gained and was still 
gaining more ascendancy, refused to grant anything 
more lenient. Lord Inchiquin entered into a secret nego¬ 
tiation with the English, and made his officers and 
soldiers take the covenant to extirpate popery, and sub¬ 
jugate the Irish. 

At Cashel a brutal act was perpetrated. Three thou¬ 
sand catholics, who had retired into the church with 
their goods for safety, were butchered without mercy. 

Charles, it is said, temporised ; the fire was scorching 
him on every hand; the confederates would support him 
if the “ Graces” could be granted; the parliament would 
rise against him if he did this ; the English had become 
quite mutinous, and the forces sent from Ireland to his 
aid moved with great reluctance. 

The Earl of Antrim, an Irish catholic noble, sup¬ 
ported Charles: he sent an army of 1500 men to assist the 
king, under the “ bloody Clavers.” The Scotch were at 
once in arms against the Irish catholics, whom they said 
the king had sent over to put down protestantism. This 
parliament enacted in October, 1644, that no quarter 
should be given to any Irishmen, or papist born in Ire¬ 
land, upon the “ sea, in England or Wales,” and upon 
“ taking such Irishmen or papist born in Ireland, forth¬ 
with to put such person to death” 

The confederates now had enough to do. Monroe 
in Ulster, Sir Charles Coote in Connaught, and Lord 
Inchiquin in Munster, were against them; they en¬ 
treated Ormond to proceed against them as rebels 
to the king, he declined. Charles pressed him to 
take charge of the confederates, and conclude a peace 
with the Irish at any cost. Ormond would not. Charles 
sent the Earl of Glamorgan to conclude a peace with 
the confederates, and peace was concluded on these 


54 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


terms. It was agreed by a 'public treaty , that pardon 
should be granted for all offences committed since the 
commencement of the insurrection ; and by a private 
treaty, it was agreed that Roman catholics should en¬ 
joy the public exercise of their religion, exercise their 
own jurisdiction, and be eligible to offices of public 
trust and dignity. Glamorgan engaged the word of the 
king for the due performance of these articles, and the 
confederates agreed to furnish men for the king’s service 
in England, under the Earl. The treaty was concluded, 
when lo ! this private document was found in the pocket 
of the Archbishop of Tuam, who was slain in a battle in 
Sligo. The paper was sent to the English parliament 
and published, which so frightened the king’s party, that 
they disavowed the treaty. Ormond arrested Glamorgan, 
charging him with forging the king’s commission 
and confined him in the castle at Dublin, declaring all 
the treaty both public and private made at Kilkenny, 
“ null and void.” Charles ratified this accusation of 
Ormond’s, before parliament, and while publicly ordering 
that the charge against Glamorgan should be prose¬ 
cuted, he was privately commanding the lord lieutenant 
to suspend the operation, assuring Glamorgan at the 
same time of his unshaken confidence and affection. 
Glamorgan was liberated, on £30,000 recognisance of 
his own, and £10,000 each of two other friends ; he 
hastened to Kilkenny, urged the catholics to agree to 
the new terms of peace offered by Ormond, without the 
free exercise of their religion. 

The Pope’s Nuncio enters Ireland. His talents and 
conciliating manners, his regular abstemious habits, 
filled the enthusiastic Irish with admiration, and his 
zeal for the catholic church gave him great popula¬ 
rity, both among the clergy and people ; he insisted on 
nothing less than a legal establishment of the catholic 
church. The pope had not so ordained, and only asked 
for a connivance for the catholic religion at that time ; 
the clergy and confederates had only required the free 
exercise of their religion in common with others, and 
the abolition of penal laws. But the Nuncio stimulated 


OP IRELAND. 


55 


them to further demands, and many of the clergy 
acceded in part; for, having lost all confidence in 
Charles, they said to the Nuncio, “the king is not to 
be trusted, when his interest may tempt him to agree 
with his parliament.” 

But a letter from Charles to the Nuncio, on his arrival 
at Kilkenny, set aside all doubts, being so filled with 
love and goodwill united, with a promise to ratify all 
which the Nuncio might propose; enjoining at the same 
time the utmost secrecy, till everything should be ad¬ 
justed, and then he would show himself. 

This increased his zeal, and he strenuously opposed 
the terms of the treaty ; but the confederates prevailed, 
a treaty was made, and 10,000 men were raised for the 
assistance of Charles against the English subjects; but 
Charles, seeing that all was nearly over with him, wrote 
to Ormond that his condition was very low, and the 
troops must be disembarked, and “employed for the 
purpose of reducing Ireland into perfect obedience.” 
This vascillating cowardly prince was soon after exe¬ 
cuted at Whitehall for treason, accused of the guilt of 
shedding all the blood in the wars of England during 
his reign. A heavy charge : if just, most fearful; if not , 
most cruel. 

The Irish people could not and would not be satis¬ 
fied with a treaty, which gave them no freedom to exer¬ 
cise their religion; removing no penalty but that of 
taking the oath of supremacy. O’Neil, who had long 
been quiet in Ulster, now protested against this treaty, 
and roused to indignation by the abuses of the Scotch 
forces on the poor Ulster peasants, when gathering their 
harvests, and of Sir Charles Coote’s abominations in 
Connaught, and the dispersing of the catholics in Cork, 
Kinsale, and Youghal, by the barbarous Inchiquin, he 
determined to punish, what Ormond refused to do, and 
rallied an army of 5000 foot and 500 horse, and at the 
head of these proceeded to Armagh. Monroe hastily 
drew out 6000 foot and 800 horse, and at midnight pro¬ 
ceeded to surprise O’Neil. O’Neil was seven miles off, 
at Benhurb, between two hills, the Blackwater on their 


56 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


right; Monroe was disappointed, affrighted at the rein¬ 
forcement of the Irish, and finally the Irish were victo¬ 
rious.' More than a thousand of the British w r ere slain, 
and the victors lost not more than seventy; and the 
booty, with the baggage, artillery, and tents, fell into 
the hands of the Irish. The Nuncio now rejoiced with 
great joy, and took advantage from this to frighten the 
confederates for making the treaty of peace at Kil¬ 
kenny ; he formed a new treaty, the conditions of which 
were, “Not to engage in any treaty of peace, but such 
as was honourable, and would secure to them the toler¬ 
ance of their worship.” 

He called a synod at Waterford, suspended all the 
clergy who preached in favour of peace, and excommu¬ 
nicated all who had signed the last peace. 

This was thorough work, and quite beyond his orders 
from the pope ; it frightened the people—they applied to 
Ormond against the Nuncio. Ormond consented, went 
with an army of 1500 foot and 500 horse, to the supreme 
council of Kilkenny; but though the inhabitants re¬ 
ceived him joyfully, yet he could do nothing with the 
prelates and clergy, and the Nuncio completely tri¬ 
umphed, and put on the semblance of a kind of monarch, 
directed all civil and ecclesiastical affairs, appointed a 
new council, elected himself president, and regulated 
officers and army to his liking. He imprisoned Lord 
Muskerry, who had promoted peace, and creating the 
Earl of Glamorgan general of Munster, he proceeded 
with an army of 16,000 foot and 1600 horse, under O’Neil 
and Preston, marched to the capital. Ormond felt that 
he could not sustain the struggle of a siege in Dublin, 
where he had gone and applied to the English parlia¬ 
ment for aid ; and though from his heart he hated them, 
yet he would not apply to the confederates, and he 
proved a traitor to the royal cause. Pie capitulated for 
a sum of ,£14,000, an annual pension of £3000 for his 
wife, and liberty to live in England, on condition of 
submitting to the authority of the parliament. The 
garrisons under his command, and the sword of state, 
were delivered to the commissioners, and Colonel Jones 


OF IRELAND. 


57 


arrived in Dublin with a body of parliamentary troops, 
numbering 2000 foot and 300 horse. He hastened to 
England, and soon ascertained that he was about to be 
apprehended : he fled to France. Preston and O’Neil 
broke up the siege and departed from Dublin. 

What a state was Ireland now in ! Protestants were 
divided, catholics were divided, “some for Paul, some 
for Apollos,” and none agreed. The catholics could 
not endure the severity of the Nuncio, and felt that a 
treaty of peace, though it did not promise freedom to 
the full extent, was better than continued war, and 
many of them would rather submit to protestant usur¬ 
pation than keep up the constant warfare. The proud 
ambitious spirit of the Nuncio would not yield, and 
under the deceitful semblance of what both catholics 
and protestants, in past ages, have falsely called the 
banner of Christ, they have drenched not only Ireland 
but the icorld in a river of blood. 

The different parties were now enrolled under three 
antagonist leaders ; the parliamentary division under 
Jones in Dublin, Monroe in Ulster, and Inchiquin in 
Munster. Opposed to them were O’Neil and Preston 
with an Irish army; and aloof from all was the confede¬ 
rate party of Munster, under Lord Taafe. 

A battle between Jones and Preston, decided against 
the latter. Then Lord Inchiquin obtained a victory 
over the catholic forces in Munster; and so furiously 
did M’Donell resist, that 700 were slaughtered before 
they laid down their arms, and 3000 of the Irish army 
were slain. 

O’Neil now stood alone and unbroken ; but becoming 
dissatisfied with the confederates, he sent delegates to 
parliament to negotiate, asking only liberty of conscience, 
security of their estates, and indemnity for the past. But 
the puritans, fearing that this would tolerate popery, ter¬ 
minated the negotiation. 

The council at Kilkenny now applied to the queen and 
Prince of Wales, then in Paris, for assistance, resolving 
to renew their treaty with Ormond, and the result was, 
the Marquis of Ormond having apologised to the royal 

d 3 


58 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


family for his misdemeanours, was again entrusted with 
the government of Ireland. Inchiquin revolted from 
the king to the parliament, and after desolating Munster, 
he seemed quite inclined again to be a royalist. His 
cruelties at Cashel might be classed with those of Nero. 
The celebrated rock of Cashel, on which stood the ruins of 
an ancient castle, contained a cathedral church, to which 
the inhabitants had fled. Inchiquin made the treach¬ 
erous offer of leaving them undisturbed on the condition 
that they would advance him ,£3000, and a month’s 
pay for his army. This was refused; he stormed and 
took the castle, slaughtering without mercy priest and 
people, and carried away the booty ; then he destroyed 
3000 confederate troops under Lord Taafe. Next, he 
found it convenient to turn to the Anglo-catholic party, 
and they hailed him as a “God-send.” While secretly 
negotiating, Inchiquin found that some English officers 
who suspected what was going on, resolved to rise on 
the towns of Cork and Youghal, for the parliament. 
Inchiquin put them in prison, and the confederates sti¬ 
pulated with him to support his troops, and surrendered 
to him two whole counties. Now he engaged to sup¬ 
port the kings rights, and obey his lord-lieutenant. 
O’Neil and the Nuncio protested against this, as a be¬ 
trayal of Ireland into the hands of its enemies. The con¬ 
federates treated O’Neil as a rebel ; Inchiquin, Preston, 
and Clanricarde, were against him; he retreated to Ulster, 
and was proclaimed traitor by the supreme council. 

The Nuncio was falling fast into disrepute. He de¬ 
nounced the peace with Inchiquin, as a betrayal of the 
church; and his excommunications were multiplied 
without any terror: the people, who wearied with his 
tyranny, drew up an appeal to the pope, followed this 
by drawing up a public charge against him, for his 
manifold transgressions, and transcendent aims, which 
for three years he had carried on, to the “ unspeakable 
debasement of their religion, the ruin of the nation, and 
dishonour of the see of Koine.” 

He was urged to leave Ireland by the clergy. He left 
without a cardinal’s hat, as he anticipated, was repri- 


OF IRELAND. 


59 


manded by the pope, as being quite rash, and banished 
to his bishopric, where he died with grief. 

Ormond landed in Cork, September 29th, 1648; and 
devoted himself entirely to the king, stipulated for the 
repeal of the penal law r s, and the confederates gave him 
the chief command of their troops; like wise men, who 
had been often betrayed, they appointed commissioners 
of trust, to control his movements. 

In reviewing the history of Ireland, one among the 
many evils that beset her, was that of treacherous or 
vascillating leaders; whether these leaders were Saxon, 
Milesian, or Scotch, something was generally wrong in 
the end, and the Irish have been trained in a school of 
treachery, from the first invasion to the present. The 
next brings to view a character not wholly misunder¬ 
stood in his doings; so far, at least, he was not a deceiver. 


CHAPTER VI. 

Whose fiery zeal so ardent as is his, who vainly thinks, 

He’s in “ God’s service ? ” 

We must now look at the conduct and character of a 
man somewhat startling in the history of Ireland; a 
character which cannot be viewed with indifference, for 
the ever-living memorials which he has left of his foot¬ 
steps say that he lived not in vain. Yes, Cromwell is 
awaking now in the hearts of his countrymen, who seem 
to have disinterred him, and are finding new beauties, 
which his contemporaries overlooked. The present gene¬ 
ration see through his armoury of war, a heart full of 
love to God and man ; they see that though blood was 
on his sicord, yet mercy was in his heart , and that his 
severest justice sprung from his ardent love. 

The graphic ready pen not only of a Carlyle, but of 
D’Aubigne is wielded, and both unite in making him a 
great hero, and above all a Christian hero. 

D’Aubigne says, “ I present him as a Christian to 



60 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


Christians ” —to protestant Christians — and claims by this 
passage ; “ Every one that loveth God that begat, loveth 
him also that is begotten of him,” that we love him too. 
Whether by this he intends that, protestant Christians 
shall take him as a pattern for holy zeal, Christian meek¬ 
ness and forbearance, which his letters to his friend so 
much breathe, or whether we are to pattern from him 
in our murders of catholics, “for God’s sake and the 
church,” we are not explicitly told. Now with all due 
deference to these able writers, I must aver, that if the 
zeal of Cromwell in his demoniacal doings in Drogheda, 
and other parts of Ireland, savour of the spirit of Christ 
and his gospel, so do the doings of the inquisition ; 
when the suffering one is told for his consolation, that 
it is for God's sake that his nails are torn out, and his 
bones broken upon the rack. If we are told that it 
was long ago that Cromwell lived—that the gospel was 
not then so well understood—we answer, it was long ago 
since the Smithfield burnings transpired. It was in the 
same age of Cromwell, that the catholics of Ireland 
killed the protestants of Ireland ; and if this be reiter¬ 
ated, by telling us, that the same spirit prevails among 
catholics now as then, we answer, not a whit behind are 
the protestants note, in the same Cromwellian spirit, if 
imprisoning ministers for preaching the gospel out of 
the established church, in the year ’49, means anything. 
Does not this persecuting spirit now go the length of its 
chain, and if the chain could be a halter, would not the 
same spirit use it. 

Let us not deceive ourselves by thinking with Paul, 
that we are doing God’s service, when we are perse¬ 
cuting our opponents in opinion, and when we are 
“ haling men and women,” and putting them in prison ; 
we cannot be as excusable as he was j we have his ex¬ 
ample, and we have eighteen hundred years of Christian 
experience to fall back upon ; and if we have not yet 
learned the first principles of the gospel we must not 
only be stupid, but incorrigible. When inquisition for 
blood shall be made, not only in the catholic , but in the 
protestant church, our vision will then be so cleared 


OF IRELAND. 


61 


from tlie dust of prejudice, bigotry, and self-admiration, 
that we shall see, that “if we have not the spirit of 
Christ, we are none of His;” that if this be contrary, 
it will avail nought, whether the “"holy water’’ from 
the fingers of a friar baptised us into the “ only true 
church,” or those of a protestant bishop introduced us 
into the “ regenerating life” of a newly-born soul, by 
pronouncing over us the name of the Trinity, accom¬ 
panied with a few drops of water. 

The truth is , that Jesus Christ or his apostles left 
no example of a revengeful or persecuting spirit, in any 
instance ; but when the misguided disciple said, “ Shall 
we call down fire from heaven ?” &c., the rebuke, “Ye 
know not what manner of spirit ye are of,” was suffi¬ 
cient, for not only the twelve who followed Him, but 
for all who call themselves by his name. 

Cromwell did a certain work, and he did it more 
manfully than godly. Buonaparte had a certain work to 
do, and he did it heroically. The soldiers had a certain 
work to do, when they crucified the Saviour, and they 
did it maliciously ; they did it too, because they said he 
was a “blasphemer,” and for the sake of the God He 
had blasphemed, He ought to die. Cromwell killed the 
catholics for the same reason, “thanked God and took 
courage” for every fresh company of ungodly men, 
women, and children, he tumbled together into what he 
believed the abodes of despair. Buonaparte, more lenient, 
disputed no man’s religion, nor wantonly destroyed 
innocent women and children; but felt the necessity 
of conquering the world , that the world might he free 
from despotism , and each enjoy his own faith ! All 
have gone to their record, and I lift not the veil to 
take them from the “place” where God has put them. 
But for the honour of Christ, I would not dare pro¬ 
nounce them followers of the forgiving Jesus; neither 
could I dare pronounce Cromwell the better for “ hold¬ 
ing the truth in unrighteousness,” than those were with 
whom I have classed him, who never professed the truth. 
His blind fanaticism speaks for itself, and his own re¬ 
citals of his bloody, revengeful deeds, should make any 
real Christian shrink with horror to read. 


G2 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


In a letter which D’Aubigne has copied, Cromwell 
says, when writing to Colonel Walton of his army, “ We 
study the glory of God , and the honour and liberty of 
the parliament, for 'which we unanimously fight; indeed 
we never found our men so cheerful , as when there is work 
to do. I trust you will always hear so of them. The 
Lord is our strength , and in him is all our hope.” 

We come to Ireland at a time when England was a 
little settled, and looking to that country, overrun by 
the Irish armies, they resolved on sending a force suffi¬ 
cient to subdue the “ rebels” and relieve the protestant 
party. The lord lieutenancy was committed to Oliver 
Cromwell. He was a parliamentary man, and as his 
words testify, felt that he was the “chosen vessel” to 
“ purge out the idolaters from the land, and make way 
for the people of the Lord.” We are told, that so 
much did he rely on the arm of God, that before accept¬ 
ing the offer, he requested that two officers from each 
corps should meet him at Whitehall, and “seek the 
Lord in prayer; ” the result was favourable, “ three 
ministers invoked a blessing on his banners, as going 
forth to fight the battles of the Lord.” “After they 
had finished, Cromwell and two officers proceeded to 
expound the scriptures, which they did excellently well 
and pertinent to the occasion.” 

“ He then went out,” a writer then living says, “ in 
that state and equipage as the like has hardly been 
seen; himself in a coach with six gallant Flanders 
mares, of whitish grey, divers coaches accompanying 
him, and very many great officers of the army; his life¬ 
guard consisting of eighty gallant men, the meanest 
whereof, a commander or esquire in stately habit, with 
trumpets sounding almost to the shaking of Charing 
Cross, had it now been standing ; of his life-guards many 
are colonels; and believe it, it is such a guard as is 
hardly to be paralleled in the world.” 

He had an army of 8000 foot and 4000 horse, of the 
best selected veterans, who had been disciplined by him¬ 
self. His military chest contained .£100,000 in money, 
provisions and ammunition in abundance, ,£3000 as an 
outfit for himself, £10 per day while he remained in 


OF IRELAND. 


63 


England, as a general, and <£2000 per quarter, besides 
bis pay, in his new office. 

With his son-in-law, Ireton, who was second in com¬ 
mand, he now seemed prepared for the “ Lord’s work,” 
and soon reached his post. Ormond had now all Ire¬ 
land under his control, except Dublin and Derry; but 
in many of his subjects he could place but little confi¬ 
dence, as he had too often deceived them, so in their 
turn they might deceive him. Jones, the English 
general, was blockaded in Dublin, in danger of being 
famished. Ormond encamped at Bathmines, intending to 
fortify the village of Bag-gatrath, near which the gar¬ 
rison provided forage for the horses; by some design or 
oversight, this was not commenced in time, and when 
Ormond’s men had but just begun the works, then 
the garrison determined on an assault. Ormond had 
stupidly gone to sleep, and his van troops driving into 
the lines first aroused him; his men on every hand 
were flying in disorder, and Jones was victor. At once 
600 were slain, 1500 privates and 300 officers were 
made prisoners, and many were butchered after laying 
down their arms; all fell into the hands of the enemy, 
which so overwhelmed Cromwell when the news reached 
his vessel, that he writes to a friend, “ This was an 
astonishing mercie, so great and seasonable, as indeed 
we are like to them that dreamed.” 

He reached Dublin May 15th, 1659,rested two weeks, 
and then determined an attack on Drogheda. Ormond 
had fortified this garrison icell , added 2000 foot and 
300 horse, and placed Sir Arthur Austin to govern 
it. This did not intimidate Cromwell, but he boldly 
demanded the governor to surrender;—was refused—his 
artillery soon arrived, and he determined to storm it. 
Twice his men mounted the breach and were repulsed 
with great slaughter. Cromwell, the third time, led the 
assault, and a frightful struggle ended by Colonel Wall 
being killed, and his soldiers threw down their arms on 
the promise of quarter, and Cromwell and his army 
rushed into the town. The garrison struggled on, but 
at last yielded; and this astonishing Christian warrior, 


G4 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


ordered that every one should be put to the sword. It 
was done ; nor was this all, the affrighted women and 
children, with soldiers and officers, fled to the great 
church in the town; these were pursued and butchered; 
and the officers who were promised mercy if they would 
lay down their arms, were all likewise put to the sword. 
“ The horrible slaughter lasted three days , till the streets 
of Droyheda ran with blood for nearly a week.” Only 
thirty^of the defenders were left alive, and these were 
shipped as slaves on the plantations in Barbadoes ! ! ! 

D’Aubigne has given us Cromwell’s letter, and from 
him it is copied, because it cannot be too well under¬ 
stood — u line upon line,” “ here a little and there a 
little ” must the story of Ireland be told, till the unjust 
judges of that down-trodden country shall be wearied with 
the continual coming, and avenge it. 

The conclusion of a report to parliament says :— 
“ Divers of the enemy retreated into the Millmount, a 
place very strong and difficult of access, being exceed¬ 
ingly high, having a good graft, (ditch,) and strongly 
palisadoed. The governor, Sir Arthur Ashton, and 
divers considerable officers being there, our men getting 
up to them were ordered by me to put them all to the 
sword, and, indeed, being in the heat of action, I for¬ 
bade them to spare any that were in arms in the town ; 
and I think that night they put to the sword about 2000 
men. Divers of the officers and soldiers being fled over 
the bridge into the other part of the town, where about 
100 possessed St. Peter’s Church steeple, some the west 
gate, and others a strong round tower next the gate, 
called St. Sunday’s. These, being summoned to yield 
to mercy, refused, whereupon, I ordered the steeple of 
St. Peter’s Church to be fired, when one of them was 
heard to say in the midst of the flames, ‘ God damn me ! 
God confound me! I burn, I burn ! ’ ” 

The next day the other two towers were summoned, 
in one of which were about six or seven score, but they 
refused to yield themselves ; and, on knowing that hun¬ 
ger must compel them, set only good guards to secure 
them from running away, until their stomachs were 


OF IRELAND. 


G5 


come down. From one of the said towers, notwithstand¬ 
ing their condition, they killed and wounded some of 
our men ; and when they submitted, their officers were 
knocked on the head, and every tenth man of the soldiers 
killed, and the rest shipped for Barbadoes. The soldiers 
in the other tower were all spared as to their lives only, 
and shipped likewise for Barbadoes. 

“I am persuaded that this is a righteous judgment of 
God on these barbarous wretches, who have imbrued 
their hands in so much innocent blood, and that it will 
prevent the effusion of blood for the future, which are 
the satisfactory grounds to such actions, which otherwise 
cannot but work remorse and regret.” 

“ And now,” he continues, “ give me leave to say how 
it comes to pass that this work is wrought. It was set 
upon some of our hearts that a great thing should be 
done, not by power or might, but by the Spirit of God. 
It was this Spirit who gave your men courage, and took 
it away again, and gave your men courage again and 
therewith this happy success. And therefore, it is good 
that God should have all the glory.” 

D’Aubigne, in copying this letter, has left a sentence 
which contains much of the pith and marrow of the piety 
with which he seems to have been imbued so deeply. 
He adds, “ I believe all ike friars were knocked on the head 
but two , the one of which was Father Peter Taafe, brother 
to the Lord Taafe, whom the soldiers look the next day and 
made an end of; the other was taken in the round tower 
under the repute of lieutenant; and when he understood 
that the officers in that tower had no quarter, he con¬ 
fessed that he was a friar, but that did not save him.” 

The parliament responded to this report by appoint¬ 
ing a day of thanksgiving throughout the nation ! ! ! 

Cromwell had now by this Drogheda massacre struck 
such terror into the country, that he marched through 
it without opposition ; gates were flung open without 
resistance—Trim and Dundalk yielded, and he reached 
Wexford without having cause to thank God for his 
abundant mercy in granting him the great grace of 
knocking priests on the head, or sending soldiers to 


6G 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


Barbadoes as slaves. When he reached Wexford, Ormond 
had 2000 troops; Cromwell summoned the governor to 
surrender, was refused, and then his thundering began, 
when “ Strafford, the governor, betrayed the castle to 
the besiegers,” and Cromwell entered. No mercy was here 
shown—the horrid scenes of Drogheda were acted anew; 
and Foster in his Life of Cromwell, says, “No distinction 
was made between the armed soldiers and the defenceless 
townsmen. Even women were put to the edge of the 
sword. 300 of the latter flocked round the great cross 
which stood in the street, hoping that Christian soldiers 
would be so far softened by the sight of that emblem of 
mercy, as to spare the lives of unresisting women ; but 
the victors, enraged at such superstition, and regarding 
it, perhaps, as a proof that they were Roman catholic, 
and therefore fit objects for military fury, rushed forward 
and put them all to death !!! ” 

Cromwell lost about thirty men, the besieged 2000. 

Now, a second letter from Cromwell to the parliament 
will as graphically tell the whole story, and place the 
affair beyond disputation, except in the case of the 300 
women, “ clustering in shrieks,” as another writer has 
described, about that cross. This he has not told, or the 
parliament did not see fit to give it if in their hands. 

“ Upon Thursday, the 11th instant, (our batteries being 
finished the night before,) we began to play betimes in 
the morning, and having spent near 100 shot, the 
governor’s stomach came down, and he sent to me to 
give leave for four persons entrusted by him to come to 
me and offer terms of surrender, which I condescending 
to, two officers, with an alderman of the town, and the 
captain of the castle, brought out the propositions 
enclosed, which, for their abominableness, manifesting 
also the impudency of the men,* I thought fit to present 
to your view, together vfith my answer, which indeed 
had no effect, for while I was preparing it, studying to 
preserve the town from plunder, that it might be of more 
use to you and your army, the captain, who was one of the 

* We are not given this abominableness and impudency, as pro¬ 
bably they were a petition for a repeal of the penal laws. 


OF IRELAND. 


67 


commissioners, being fairly treated, yielded up the castle 
to us, upon the top of which our men no sooner appeared 
but the enemy quitted the walls of the town, which our 
men perceiving ran violently upon the town with their 
ladders, and stormed it. And when they were come 
into the market-place, the enemy making a stiff resis¬ 
tance, our forces broke them, and then put all to the 
sword that fell in their way. Two boatsful of the enemy 
attempting to escape, being overprest with number, sunk, 
whereby were drowned near 300 of them. I believe in 
all there was lost of the enemy not many less than 2000, 
and I believe, not twenty of yours killed, from first to 
last of the siege. This town is now so in your power, that 
of the former inhabitants, I believe scarce one in twenty 
can challenge any property in their houses. Most of 
them have run away, and many of them were killed in 
the service. 

“ Thus it hath pleased God to give into your hands 
this other mercy, for which, and for all, we pray God 
may have all the glory !! ” 

Now it must be acknowledged, that this “ Christian to 
Christians,” which is held up to “protestant- Christians,” 
looks a little stern when compared with Him whose name 
he has put on. That sermon on the Mount of Olives 
must have left some great loop-hole for this Christian 
warrior and his carnal weapons to enter, which the 
simple credulous apostles never discovered. Next we 
follow him to Ross, where he writes a Christian letter to 
the commander, telling him how careful he had been to 
“ avoid the effusion of blood,” and that none need suffer 
except through their own “ ivilfillness.” In other words, 
none who will give me their houses and lands for the 
crown, and their consciences for my use and benefit, 
shall be butchered, or sent as slaves to Barbadoes; but 
if you refuse these my righteous demands, your “ own 
wi fulness ” shall pull down the righteous vengeance of 
a God, and you shall be guilty of all the blood which 
I and my praying soldiers may shed. 

Ross surrendered, and Cromwell here condescended 
that the inhabitants should be permitted “ to live 


G8 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


peaceably, free from the injury and violence of the 
soldiers.” 

D’Aubigne does not accompany the hero in his further 
glorious conquests, but gives us this salvo:—“ that no 
statesmen ever did so much for that poor country as he; 
that Connaught which was a vast desert was soon changed 
into a fruitful country, and the rest of Ireland was every¬ 
where cultivated with activity and confidence. In the 
space of little more than two years the whole kingdom 
was covered with elegant and useful buildings, fine plan¬ 
tations, and new enclosures. Peace, ease, and industry 
had returned to that unhappy land.” 

This statement will do very well for poetry; but there 
are a few items to be taken into the account hereafter. 
When Cromwell had done with Ross he proceeded to 
assist Ireton at Duncannon, where they met with a 
powerful resistance, but at last prevailed, and Cromwell 
proceeded to Kilkenny. O’Neil, who had been denounced 
as a traitor, saw the danger of his country, and deter¬ 
mining to bury all injuries, acceeded to the overtures 
made him by Ormond, and set off to join the royal 
forces ; he was taken ill on the journey and was carried 
on a litter at the head of his army, but died in a few 
days, lamented by all Ireland as the most sagacious, 
energetic, honourable, and humane leader they had ever 
followed. Ormond reached Kilkenny and met O’Neil’s 
army in the best condition, but finding that Cromwell 
had marched to besiege Waterford, pursued after him. 
When he reached the town he saw from a hill that Crom¬ 
well’s army were retreating, but he could not attack 
them without passing through the city. This the inha¬ 
bitants would not allow, they were so suspicious of one 
who had acted traitorously; and beside, the Earl of 
Antrim was plotting to supply Ormond's place, and had 
influenced the inhabitants against him. Cromwell raised 
the siege, but his soldiers, he writes to parliament, were 
“ fitter for an hospital than the field beside, he wanted 
money, and all was dark. A revolt succeeded, through 
Broghill, who was a strict puritan; and Cromwell, who 
had seen him in London, promised if he would join him 


OF IRELAND. 


69 


lie should have some honourable command, he left his 
old friends the royalists, and stirred up Munster to revolt, 
and while Lord Inchiquin was absent took Youghal, 
Kinsale, Rondin, and Cork. Dungarvon was taken by 
Cromwell. Ormond could not be allowed to quarter his 
forces in huts outside the wall; the royalists were divided 
—Ormond was discouraged, and the greater part of Ire¬ 
land was in the hands of parliament, and affairs for six 
weeks seem to be in statu quo. 

In February 1650, Cromwell, strengthened in the 
“ inner and outer man,” as he tells us, went out to battle, 
and Ireland trembled at his approach. With some dif¬ 
ficulty he took Kilkenny, Callan and Gowran, Cashel 
and Fethord yielded, and a long religious letter from 
Cromwell tells us, that after putting all to the sword who 
refused submission ;—“ We marched back with the rest 
of the body to Fethord and took it, where we are now 
quartered, having plenty both of horse-meat and men- 
meat for the time, and being indeed, we may say, almost 
in the heart and bowels of the enemy, ready to attempt 
what God shall next direct, and blessed be his name 
only for this good success.” 

The plague was in Kilkenny, and Cromwell was about 
retreating, when he received a message from the mayor 
and citizens that they would admit him into the town. 
The garrison marched out with arms and baggage, while 
Cromwell commended them for their bravery in their 
gallant defence. At Clonmel he met with determined 
resistance, and the English lost 2000. Another assault 
was made by the cavalry, and so desperate was the en¬ 
gagement, that they fought hand to hand, and foot to 
foot, till Cromwell determined to convert the siege into 
a blockade, and do by hunger what he could not by 
storm. The siege was so long that Cromwell fretted 
much at their obstinacy ; but after two months holding 
out the general withdrew in the night unknown to 
Cromwell;—the townsmen treated with the besiegers, 
and Cromwell had the town. He was now satisfied and 
wished to return to England. He wipes his bloody 
hands, after imbruing them in the blood of thousands of 


70 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


fathers, mothers, and children, and then like the ravenous 
lion, who has glutted his jaws with the prey, he goes 
home to caress the little ones of his own bone and flesh, 
and rehearse to them how God nerved his arm to send 
“ shrieking women ” and children away from that land, 
which was to be an inheritance for the people of God. 
D’Aubigne informs us, that he returned to London and 
was received by the parliament and people, “ as a soldier 
who had gained more laurels and done more wonders in 
nine months, than any age or history could parallel.” 

His redeeming qualities should not be passed over ; 
his humanity in some cases was extraordinary. He had 
two soldiers shot on the way to Drogheda, for steal¬ 
ing two hens; which, the historian says, was not worth 
sixpence; the poor country people were so smitten with 
his generosity, that they flocked to him with all kinds of 
provisions, for the armies of the English settlers had 
been extremely reckless. 

Ireton had now nearly all Ireland under his control, 
yet those who had not yielded were desperate in their 
resistance ; but so dissatisfied were all with the treachery 
of Ormond, that he could not enter a city to defend it, 
and the city of Waterford was taken by means of two 
brothers belonging to Ireton’s army, who Were sent with 
thirty musketeers to set fire to a few houses in the 
suburbs; the smoke so frightened the Irish that they 
fled, “leaving the ladders on the ramparts.” One of 
the brothers rushed into the town, calling the thirty 
men, who halloed and fired, covering themselves in the 
smoke; one of the brothers was killed, the other opened 
the gates to the besieging army, and his reward for tact 
and bravery was the estate of Sir Walter Coppinger, an 
Irish catholic, whose property the parliament confis¬ 
cated. Ormond discouraged, transferred his power to 
the Marquis of Clanricarde, and sailed for France. 

Ireton remained in winter quarters, and in 1651 he 
proceeded to Limerick ; the inhabitants had refused the 
aid of the Marquis of Clanricarde or Lord Castlehaven, 
and invited Hugh O’Neil to be commander of the gar¬ 
rison ; and Ireton found him a general qualified to com- 


OF IRELAND. 


71 


mand. So obstinate was the struggle, that six months 
had made no impression on the city; but treachery at 
last succeeded, by means of a correspondence between 
some of the besiegers and a party of citizens within the 
walls. The besiegers proposed a surrender, and pardon 
was offered to all but twenty-four of the leading catholics, 
and the two bishops then within the walls. The 
bishops declared against this inhuman sacrifice, and 
O’Neil determined to resist to the last. 

At last, in October, a treaty was signed, Limerick 
was in the hands of the parliament, and Ireton deter¬ 
mined to wreak his Cromwellian revenge on the twenty- 
four leaders, which included O’Neil, who w r as sentenced 
to be executed ; his men entreated, O’Neil defended 
himself most nobly, and the English officers interfered, 
stating the disgrace that would fall on England by such 
a step, and he was saved. The Bishop of Conly, we are 
told by JBourke’s Hibernia Dominicans, had been so 
heroic in Cromwell’s battles, that Ireton offered him 
<£40,000 if he would desist from his exhortations, and 
quit the city. He refused heroically, was tried, and 
condemned to be hanged on the gallows; he addressed 
Ireton prophetically, accusing him of the greatest in¬ 
justice, and threatening him with life for life, and sum¬ 
moning him to the tribunal of God, in a few days. 
The bishop was executed on the eve of All Saints, and 
his head fixed on a pike at the top of a tower, near the 
centre of the city. Ireton died of the plague a few days 
after, raging in fury against the bishop, whose con¬ 
demnation he declared had hastened his death. 

The garrison, by the terms of the treaty, were allowed 
to march out after laying down their arms, and the 
sight was a most awful one; they were emaciated, some 
dropping dead of the plague as they staggered along, 
and many were left unburied. The war now flagged; 
almost all was in the hands of parliament but Galway ; 
and Ludlow, who succeeded to Ireton in 1652, com¬ 
menced the war with fresh vigour. Galway soon sur¬ 
rendered. Preston, the governor, fled by sea, then 
several other towns were taken. Sir Phelim O’Neil, 


72 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


who was prominent in the commencement of the war, 
appeared again, took Donegal and Ballyshannon; but 
he fell into the enemy's hands and was executed. Two 
hundred more, who were the most distinguished, were 
executed, and Borlase says, that in the year 1652, 
27,000 men left Ireland, and Dalrymple, in his British 
Memoirs , says 40,000. 

Now, England, on the 26th of September, 1652, 
declared that, “ the rebels in Ireland were subdued, and 
the rebellion appeased and ended.” In truth, ten years 
of most fearful contest had wasted the country, killed the 
inhabitants by wholesale; and England had now English 
catholics, Irish catholics, and protestants at variance 
with both; protestant loyalists and catholic loyalists, 
fighting against protestant republicans; the fragments 
of all these parties still remained, and the dreadful 
sufferings which war, famine, and the plague had caused, 
were beyond a parallel. No quarter ivas to be given 
to the Irish soldiers , and consequently, as Ludlow says, 
“they were hunted into dens and caves, then smoked to 
death,’’ and the most excruciating sufferings made life 
so intolerable, that many in despair plunged headlong 
from precipices, some into the sea, many were trans¬ 
ported into France, Spain, or the West Indies; many 
had been cut down when in the fields, gathering the 
scanty harvest, and now comes the happy period of 
D’Aubigne’s era, when Connaught was converted into a 
fruitful field, and beautiful habitations of comfort were 
all over the island. 

Fleetwood married the widow of Ireton, and was 
immediately appointed lord-deputy of Ireland, and sent 
thereto divide the conquered country,for the convenience 
of parliament, and recompense of the valiant officers 
and soldiers, who had so nobly subdued the people. 
No resistance was made, so many had been slain, so 
many banished, and so many had perished by famine 
and pestilence, that Fleetwood had a country rich in all 
but people, entirely to himself. Borlase says, that in 
the summer of 1650, 17,000 died in Dublin, and that 
this was not so great a mortality as was in many cities. 


OF IRELAND. 


73 


Now the English flocked over to settle, and con¬ 
fiscation began. The proposition was made by some to 
extirpate the Irish entirely ; but this was overlooked, 
they were retained as serfs, but banished into the most 
desolate parts, as we shall see hereafter. 

The first act of parliament was to confiscate the lands 
of the “ rebels,” and here follows the summary :— 

“ That all who had been engaged in the rebellion of 
1651, or had contrived, aided, or in any way abetted it, 
or had slain any person in arms for the English, or were 
now in arms and refused to lay them down, and submit 
to the authority of the parliament, were excepted from 
pardon of life and estate : that all who had borne com¬ 
mand in the war against the English parliament, were 
to be banished, two-thirds of their estates to be for¬ 
feited, and the value of the remaining third assigned to 
their wives and children, at the pleasure of the parlia¬ 
ment : that all persons of the popish religion, who had 
been resident in Ireland from 1641 to 1650, and had 
not manifested their constant good affection to the com¬ 
monwealth of England, were to forfeit one-third of their 
estates, and be assigned the value of the other two- 
thirds, according to the pleasure of the parliament: that 
all persons who had resided in Ireland during the above 
period, who had not been in arms for the parliament, or 
shown their good affection to it, were to forfeit one- 
fifth of their estates.” 

Next follow what are usually called Cromwells 
slaughter-houses; for Borlase says, “ that no articles 
were pleadable” in these tribunals, and against a charge 
of things said to be done in them twelve years before, 
little or no defence could be made; and that the cry 
was made of blood, aggravated with expressions of so 
much horror, and the no less daunting aspect of the 
courts, all so confound the amazed prisoners, that they 
“ come like sheep to the slaughter.” 

The claims of the soldiers come next. The “ Adven¬ 
turers’ Act,” which provided, that those who adventured 
money in the service of the parliament, should be repaid 
in the lands of those who were in arms against their 


74 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


authority. The partition now accordingly took place, and 
two millions and a half of acres were assigned as follows. 
Each adventurer of ,£200. was to have allotted to him 
1000 acres in Ulster; of £500., 1000 acres in Connaught j 
of £450., 1000 acres in Munster; and of £600., 1000 
acres in Leinster. Those who held lands in Ulster, were 
to pay a yearly quit rent to the crown of one penny 
per acre; in Connaught, three-halfpence per acre ; in 
Munster, two-pence farthing per acre ; and in Leinster, 
three-pence per acre. A council of war was then held 
in Dublin of the chief commanders of parliament, and 
they then and there decided, that the entire kingdom 
should be surveyed ; and that all the soldiers should 
bring in their demands. The land was then surveyed : 
the best land was valued at four shillings an acre, the 
poorest at a penny; and a hap-hazard estimate was 
made that 605,670 acres were unprofitable lands —these 
lands were gratis. The soldiers then drew lots, in what 
part of the kingdom each should have his portion. 
Many of these soldiers took immediate possession, while 
some resold them to the original proprietors, and the 
officers bought the remainder. 

We now see what is the great ground of difficulty 
concerning Ireland; she w r as first slaughtered , then 
plundered , then driven from all her possessions, which 
had been her fathers’ for centuries; and the voice of 
justice is still crying, “Give me back my inheritance,’’ 
“ Give me the share that belongeth to me ! ” But the 
sum total of all the iniquity was the banishing of the 
old proprietors into the mountainous regions o N f Con¬ 
naught. The catholic aristocracy many of them left 
the country, and sought homes elsewhere, and the new 
proprietors set about in good earnest to make, what 
D’Aubigne has told us, the country beautiful and fruit¬ 
ful in the extreme. The most splendid buildings were 
erected, beautiful plantations of trees were springing up, 
and this emerald isle, fattened by the blood of the slain, 
was looking out in almost unrivalled beauty. 

Here let us pause, and while w r e give credence to the 
wholesale, undefined statement of the astonishing happy 


OF IRELAND. 


75 


change which we are told took place in “two years,” 
allow us to investigate how this change was effected, 
and whether this new government placed it on a better 
foundation than it was before the invasion : to first 
principles we must go, all else is fallacious, and until 
these principles are placed again where their claims can 
be heard and answered, no progress towards right can 
be made. 

Let us follow these Connaught exiles to the caves and 
craigs where they were driven; these parts had been 
made desolate by the plague and by massacres, and the 
wretched fugitives were cut off from a communication 
with the sea, as Cromwell’s soldiers had claimed an 
inheritance for four miles back, leaving them a narrow 
strip to the Shannon and its castles, which cut them 
off from anything beyond the river. These poor robbed 
ones were ordered to repair to this narrow enclosure by 
the first day of March ; the young and old, and infirm 
of both sexes, under penalty of death; and any who 
after that time should be found in any part of the king¬ 
dom, man, woman, or child, might be “ hilled by any 
body who saw or met them.” Commissioners arranged 
this transportation beyond the Shannon; at the same 
time a court was held at Athlone to determine the quali¬ 
fications of papist proprietors to their new lands ; and 
upon their decisions another court sat at Loughrea, to 
arrange their transplantation; * and before entering on 
their new possessions, the catholics were required to 
give releases of all their former rights and titles to the 
land which was taken from them. The reader will see 
at once the unjust policy of this, which utterly debarred 
them and their heirs from claiming any inheritance. 
These catholics who were thus driven to Connaught, 
were many of them in possession of estates “worth a 
thousand a year, and had not ten pounds assigned them 
in Connaught.” 

What followed must be imagined, it cannot be written; 
their sufferings from cold, hunger, and desperation, 


e 2 


* Walsh. 


76 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


drove many to rush voluntarily into death; the chiefs 
were compelled to submit to the terms of parliament, 
leaving their fruitful estates to English soldiers. 

But the conquerors soon found that they could not 
cultivate the.land without labour, and those “wild 
Irish,” were ranked as serfs or slaves, and they were 
many of them called from Connaught for bondsmen, to 
toil at the caprice of the masters, who treated them as 
an inferior race of beings, with rigour and contempt; 
and hence, to this day, a Connaught man is the jest of 
all the higher classes, and not only in Ireland, but he 
seems to be a “hissing and bye-word’’ to all nations. 
One writer, speaking of the feelings existing between 
the new settlers and the banished ones, says : Bitter con¬ 
tempt on one side, and dark revenge on the other.” 
“ The cruel slaughter by means of which their possessors 
had obtained their lands, often returned to their own 
hearths in the shape of stern murder and midnight 
incendiarism.” 

The laws enacted in Queen Elizabeth’s time, were 
carried out to perfection. The peasantry w r ere prohibited 
from attending mass, or to leave their own district under 
pain of death without either a trial or form of law ; it was 
a capital offence for any four to meet together ; and arms 
of any kind, when found in their possession, drew down 
the guilt of high-treason. “ To harbour, or conceal a 
priest—to meet him on the highways, or to be acquainted 
with his lurking-places, without informing a magistrate, 
were punishable with forfeiture of goods and chattels, 
imprisonment and whipping. When a master was robbed, 
the effects of the tenantry were all chargeable with treble 
the amount, not inquiring who was the robber.”* 

The priests hid themselves in the fastnesses of the 
mountains ; those who had dared to stay in the country, 
and at night issued forth to encourage the afflicted inha¬ 
bitants ; which, being ascertained by the Cromwellians, 
they invented a refined cruelty, which none but the 
American slave-holder can boast of practising. Blood¬ 
hounds were put in requisition to hunt the priests from 

* Clarendon’s Rebellion. 


OF IRELAND. 


77 


tlieir dens, and the sport of “ priest-hunting ” was more 
enjoyed than fox or hare-hunting.* A reward of five 
pounds was offered for every priest s head, and the same 
for a wolf, which latter prowler had increased according 
to war, pestilence, and famine. 

One act of Elizabeth was, that every Romish priest so 
found, was u sentenced to he hanged until he was half 
dead, then to have his head taken off, and his body cut 
in quarters, his bowels to be drawn out and burnt, and 
his head fixed upon a pole in some public place. Many 
ude monuments now remain in Connaught of the exe¬ 
cution of these fearful laws, and one anecdote, which may 
not be improperly recorded here, was related to me in 
1848. 

Going out into one of the wretched districts in Conne- 
mare, to see the state of the famine, I met upon an 
eminence a large rough stone standing out prominently, 
and in something the shape of a pillar. 1 inquired of 
the person with me what it meant ? It is, he replied, a 
stone raised there in the days of “ priest-hunting , when 
a man called “John,’ the “priest-killer, went about 
these mountains to hunt priests, and get the Me 

carried a hammer, and had a knife attached to his girdle , 
with the hammer he struck the priest on the head, then 
finished what might remain of life in him by the knife. 
This John met at night-fall a priest on this spot: in 
hastily raising his hand to strike with the hammer his 
knife fell from his girdle; stooping to pick it up the 
priest unexpectedly seized the hammer and killed John. 
This was matter of great rejoicing, for John had secured 
many a £5. by his dexterity in “ priest-hilling . A 
stone was immediately raised by the peasantry, which 
stands to this day so w r ell authenticated, that it is con¬ 
sidered a most valuable memento. 

The English, under these “ wise regulations, two years 
after ” Cromwell, had every inducement to “ build up 
the w'aste places j”—they had estates for little or no 
equivalent, they had a fertile soil, they had a parliament 
lavish in its encouragements, and they had the doomed 
* Dr. Taylor’s Civil Wars of Ireland. 


78 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


“ Connaught-men ” at their option, for bondmen, for 
u hewers of wood and drawers of water.” But mark! 
these beautiful houses and domains, though of a different 
construction, were no better specimens of taste, religion, 
or literature, than those which 'preceded the “ invasion 
the undecayed wrecks of castles, abbeys, and churches, 
are undeniable proofs that the 7th, 8th, and 9th cen¬ 
turies needed not the Cromwellian polish to make them 
beautiful, and the remains of decayed roots of trees now 
in the hogs, prove that the plantations which followed 
the invasion were no more rich or flourishing than those 
which preceded it. The specimens of golden ornaments 
lately dug up and preserved in the museum of the 
Archaeological Society in Dublin, give abundant proof 
that Ireland was a thousand years ago far beyond in 
riches and beauty what she can now boast. 

To return to the condition of Ireland. It must be said 
that Henry, the son of Cromwell, who succeeded Fleet- 
wood, was one who walked not after the steps of his 
father, or his father’s adherents, but did all in his power 
to check abuses, devised many plans to draw out the 
resources of Ireland, and remedied many abuses in the 
courts of law, encouraged learning, and impoverished 
himself by his benevolence. He purchased the library 
of Bishop Usher, and presented it to Trinity College. 
He cooled the rashness of the soldiers, and so attached 
did the people become to him, that when some disaffected 
officers sent a remonstrance to Cromwell against his 
administration, petitions were sent from the army and 
from the inhabitants of every county to have him 
retained. But four years was he allowed to remain, 
and when he returned he was so poor that he was obliged 
to ask money from England to convey him back.* 

His father died soon after. Richard Cromwell suc¬ 
ceeded his father, but was quite inefficient to manage 
the country ; every thing was ruffled, parliament was 
against the protector, and independents were against 
presbyterians, and the whole ended in almost an entire 


* Leland. 


OF IRELAND. 


79 


revolt to tlie king ; declaring for a free parliament and 
loyalty, was all the cry. Now the question was, whether 
they should roll all their difficulties respecting the dis¬ 
tribution of land upon the king, or whether the soldiers 
should return what had been granted, and the whole 
country be ruined. 


CHAPTER VI. 

t{ Thy soil is drenched with blood, thy pleasant fields laid waste.” 

Charles II. was proclaimed King of Ireland and invited 
to go over, which was deferred till he was publicly ac¬ 
knowledged king in England. The catholics looked to 
him as the restorer of their lands, but they looked in 
vain j for he at once agreed not only to ratify what the 
Cromwellians had done, but agreed to exclude the Irish 
from the general act of indemnity passed on his arrival. 
All who had aided in the attempt to maintain Charles I. 
on the throne “ were expressly excluded,” and a, pro¬ 
clamation was issued confirming all the confiscations in 
Cromwell’s time, and coolly declaring the Irish catholics 
to be “ rebels,” and that having been conquered by his 
majesty’s protestant subjects, their estates and posses¬ 
sions had now become vested in the crown. He further 
added, that he held it to be his duty to God and the 
whole protestant interest, to command, publish, and 
declare, that all Irish rebels, other than such as by 
articles had liberty to reside in his dominions, and had 
not forfeited the benefits thereof, that should resort to 
England or Ireland, should be forthwith apprehended 
and proceeded against as rebels and traitors; and that 
the adventurers, and soldiers, and others, who were on the 
1st of January last past put in possession of any of the 
manors, castles, houses, or lands, of any of the said Irish 
rebels, should not be disturbed in their possessions till 
either ejected by due course of law, or till his majesty by 



80 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


the advice of parliament had taken further order there¬ 
in/’ Charles then enforced all the expatriating laws 
previously made, forbidding them to go from one pro¬ 
vince to another to transact business ; the nobility and 
gentry were forbidden to meet, “ their letters were in¬ 
tercepted, and many of them were thrown into prison.” 
The puritans, who had been the agents of the death of 
Charles I., were now taken into favour by the son. 
Those friends who had stood by him when in exile justly 
claimed that he should not abandon them in this time 
of need. Lord Roche, who had shared his pay with 
Charles when he had a regiment in Flanders, now trusted 
that Charles would restore to him his lost properties in 
Ireland, but he was rejected. The clamour now grew 
so great from the royalists that something must be done, 
claims must be heard from these confederates who had 
done so much for the king. And these claimants were 
divided into two classes —innocents and nocents ; the first 
to be restored to their lands on the Cromwellian pos¬ 
sessors being reprised or indemnified ; the second was to 
be dismissed without remedy. Woman was innocent who 
had joined the confederacy before the peace of 1648, or 
who previously had lived within the quarters of the con¬ 
federates, though he might not have joined them, or had 
the means of living elsewhere ; and none who had ad¬ 
hered to the Nuncio, &c. The commissioners upon these 
orders went to work, and the dismay of the king and 
councillors was great, when they found with all their 
precautions, that in the first sittings of court the inno¬ 
cents amounted to 200. The Cromwellians threatened 
to appeal to arms; and in order to prevent these claim¬ 
ants from being too numerous, they curtailed the sitting 
of the court; and of the 4000 claimants but 1000 were 
heard :—the court rose, and rose for ever. The confusion 
was great in the adjustment of the lands to the 200 
innocents. W hole baronies had been assigned to soldiers 
in consideration of small pay. And finally, the Acts of 
Settlement and Explanation were prepared and pushed 
through parliament, and a protestant proprietary substi¬ 
tuted instead of a catholic one. 


OF IRELAND. 


81 


What was now to be the religion of Ireland % Pre¬ 
cisely what a parliament said it should be. The Scotch 
covenanters in Ulster, and the puritans of the south, 
had struggled to put down prelacy and to plant presby- 
terianism and independency in its place. But Ormond, 
always ready, urged Charles to pronounce the episcopacy 
and liturgy to be the legal establishment of Ireland : 
the ecclesiastical preferments were filled up, the bishops 
ordained with great pomp, and the puritans, who feared 
losing their estates, found their consciences quite yielding 
towards episcopacy, and they united heartily with them 
in compelling the Irish peasantry to pay for the support 
of the church. 

What must be expected would be the state of catholic 
feeling under these unjust bonds that were fastened 
upon them; and to add to the weight, in order to 
exclude all catholics from power, the lower house of 
parliament resolved that no members should be qualified 
to sit in that house but such as had taken the oaths ot 
allegiance and supremacy ; and to banish them from the 
upper house, “ Primate Bramble,” the speaker, procured 
an order to be passed there, that all the members should 
receive the sacrament of the Lord’s Supper from his 
grace’s own hands. 

The Act of Settlement was carried into effect while 
Dublin was thronged “ with widows robbed of their join¬ 
tures, and orphans of their birthrights”—the catholics 
dispersed themselves over the continent, and afterw r ards 
to America, seeking everywhere, but in their owm isle, 
their bread and their home. And now let every Christian 
look with a Christian eye and Christian heart on the 
fearful state into which these people were cast; let him 
trace back the history of that nation to a few centuries 
before the invasion, and candidly tell us if he thinks that 
Ireland has been blessed by the planting of a nominal 
church, and enforcing its laws by coercion upon a people 
“ robbed and spoiled from the beginning.” Let him 
look upon that “ Act of Settlement,”—read how it w^as 
carried into effect. Let him further look at what is 
called the “ Black Act” and the “ Magna Gharta of 


82 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


Irish Protestants, ” which debarred the “ Innocents” 
from being heard in their lawful claims. By this “ Act,” 
which Ormond was vigilant in forwarding, his income 
swelled from ,£7000. per annum to upwards of £80,000. 
Charles, who was cruel in the extreme, and violated his 
promises, saw without any apparent remorse, thousands 
of the most respectable and ancient families doomed to 
hopeless ruin. 

Let us as protestants, and as “ Christian protestants” 
too, look all this fairly in the face, and if we can look 
at it unblushingly, we are made of sterner stuff than 
Cromwell himself. It has been a favourite saying with 
us, that the “ blood of the martyrs has been the seed of 
the church.” What shall we say of the blood of Irish 
catholics ? It has been shed, and it has been shed pro¬ 
fusely, it has been shed maliciously and most cruelly; 
and where are the catholics of Ireland now ? Have they 
dwindled away—have they shrunk from their religion % 
No. There they stand looking up in the face of all 
men, adhering to their “ ancient faith,” and though 
they endured the penal laws, yet at the risk of their 
homes and lives they secretly performed their worship, 
baptized their children into a church which they knew 
would keep them debarred from all temporal privileges, 
not even allowing them to teach a child to read; yet 
under hedges, and in mountain caves, there they are, 
subsisting sometimes on potatoes, sometimes on nettles 
and other herbs, learning their beloved language, which 
under the heaviest penalty they are forbidden to read ! 
It must be said of the catholics of Ireland, that the 
more they have been oppressed, like the children of 
Israel, the more they have grown. 

What does this imply ? That the catholic faith is 
the true faith ? Not so. But it proves that God hates 
oppression, and however great the sins of the oppressed 
may have been, yet there is a vengeance which belongs 
alone to God to render, and when man presumptuously 
takes this into his own hands, he seldom removes the 
cause, but increases the evil. 

The protestants have been sacrificed to the false zeal 


OF IRELAND. 


83 


and bigotry of the catholics ; their blood has been spilt, 
their bodies have been burned, and their ashes have been 
scattered to the winds of heaven ; but what has this 
blood, and what have these ashes done ? They have 
planted many a church, and caused many to look care¬ 
fully into that “ Book of books,” which before had to 
them been a sealed one ; and in proportion as they have 
been persecuted, so have they flourished. Thus with the 
catholics of Ireland. Not a suffering has been spared 
to people or priest by Elizabeth, Cromwell, Charles, and % 
others, which an over-heated zeal could devise to anni¬ 
hilate them. Their lands have been confiscated; their 
houses plundered and burned ; their bishops and priests 
have been hanged ; their heads put upon the tops of 
castles and towers, or their brains beaten out; the poor 
have laboured in the fields of their “task-masters,” 
without remuneration. Ah, yes !—and upon the very 
fields which were owned by their sires. They have been 
driven from their miserable hovels as the “ filth and 
offscouring of the earth,” to dwell in the “clefts of the 
rocks they have paid a tenth of their scanty crop to 
support a full-fed clergy to read one day in seven a 
compilation of prayers to a handful of worshippers, as 
devout and proud as themselves. And where are. these 
hated ones of the catholics now i Starving and dying in 
mountain or glen, they are calling upon the “ Blessed 
Virgin,” they are boldly bending before their crucifix, 
counting their beads, and invoking some saint to carry 
their cries to heaven, that God may rid them from the 
hand of their oppressors. Their priests are in every 
parish, and they know all their flock by name, and they 
stand out together—the frightful monument of an 
oppressed, enduring, always dying , ever-living mass of 
God’s image, made and kept so by a religion called 
Christian / And, strange to tell, the question is urged 
and reiterated—“ What is the matter with that miserable 
country , and what can be done to relieve it V ’ Do justice, 
and do it speedily, or consequences more fearful may 
follow. 

The object of the past concise sketch of the history of 


84 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


Ireland, thus far, lias been only to answer the question 
so much asked—“ Why is Ireland in such a state V — 
and to answer it so briefly that some may read it, not 
because it is new, or because it throws a greater or clearer 
light, but because it is short . We have seen how the 
Irish have been robbed of their land, and we see Charles, 
the profligate king, rivetting their chains still tighter if 
possible, making provisions for his favourites and illegi¬ 
timate children, while a church, almost as profligate, are 
giving him the title of “ religious and gracious f and 
the consequences of these measures sent multitudes of 
the middle class into foreign lands from England, who 
dissented from these abuses, and took refuge where 
liberty of conscience could be better enjoyed. This 
emigration made a diminution of rents, and then aris¬ 
tocracy was touched; this soon touched the legislation, 
which first attributed the loss of rents to the importation 
of “ Irish cattle,” and a blind legislation declared that 
no fat cattle should be imported from Ireland. A fire 
in London, about this time, called for sympathy, and the 
Irish, forgetting all injuries, proposed to send 50,000 fat 
beasts as a donation, but this “popish” beef was scouted 
as a pretence to bribe England to masticate with it the 
Komish heterodoxy. The contest was “ long and loud,” 
about “ Irish cattle,” in the House of Commons, and it 
was there declared that the admission of Irish “ cattle” 
was a “ nuisance .” The lords amended it, by calling it 
“ detriment ,” or “mischief;” and Lord Ashley proposed 
it should be called a “felony” The bill passed without a 
name. But Charles was so goaded by this measure 
that he turned it in self-defence, quite to the advantage 
of the Irish, by granting free trade between all other 
countries and Ireland, “ whether at war or peace with 
his majesty ;” and further allowed that the Irish might 
refuse admission to the Scotch manufactures of linen and 
woollen, and thus a little “ tit-for-tat” was exercised 
toward the Scotch, for they too had resisted the “ Irish 
beef.” Home manufactures now spread in Ireland, wool 
and flax were extensively manufactured, especially the 
latter, and no mention need be made of the value of Irish 


OF IRELAND. 


85 


linen to this day. The Irish saw their commerce rising, 
and for some there dawned a little hope, when Ormond 
was called to England, and Lord Berkley appointed 
Lord-Lieutenant, and the catholics with joy escorted him 
to Dublin, when he immediately relaxed the penal 
statutes ; catholics were admitted to trusts of civil and 
military power. The protestants now trembled lest their 
foothold of the land would not be secure, and the more 
so, when they saw Peter Talbot of Dublin created arch¬ 
bishop by the pope, and then celebrating high mass, in 
style most magnificent, under the very eyes of those who 
had thought they should “die in their nest.” The king 
was petitioned, the people were alarmed ; they removed 
Lord Berkley, and sent back. Ormond, who had been in 
disgrace. Ormond returned, and soon the frightful 
popish “plot,” by Titus Oates, shook all the country. 
This plot, it was said, was intended to assassinate the 
king and influential persons in England, who would not 
consent to the re-establishment of the catholic religion. 
The jesuits, who are asserted to have caused the great 
London fire, were now plotting the life of the king, and, 
in addition, were about to “set fire to Westminster, 
Wapping, and all the ships in the river.” Ireland, too, 
must lose Ormond, who was one of the first victims, and 
Peter Talbot, Lord Mountgarret, and Colonel Peppard, 
were the dreadful plotters. Frightful things were said, 
frightful things were done : every protestant now deemed 
himself a martyr ; he saw stakes and racks in every 
square, provided for his death. Oates was encouraged by 
a reward of £1200. a-year for his task in discovering 
plotters ; seizures of persons were made and many 
executed ; poor old Peter Talbot, bed-ridden for two 
years, and Mountgarret, confined to his bed by age, were 
taken, and deposited in Dublin jail : the happy Peppard 
escaped, because no Peppard was in existence : but some¬ 
body must have been plotters, and plotters must be 
hanged. At last, by olfering large rewards, old tories in 
jail now had mysteries to reveal.—They were escorted to 
London, and they accused Archbishop Plunkett, the 
Homan Catholic Primate of Ireland, who was dragged to 


86 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


England, found guilty with some difficulty, and was 
hanged at Tyburn, professing his innocence to the last. 

When the fears had subsided, and vengeance was 
appeased with blood, the villany of Oates and his asso¬ 
ciates was discovered, which was to effect a revolution in 
government, and could not accomplish it but by getting 
up a “ popish plot.” Shaftesbury, who was at the head 
of the cabal, fled beyond the seas, and died in misery. 
Charles resigned his power into the hands of his brother 
James, and the Duke of Ormond was removed. Charles 
died, and James, who was a bigotted catholic, boldly 
declared he would by law establish the catholic religion. 
He ascended the throne, and with all the zeal that a 
narrow-minded bigot could possess, he set himself in. 
earnest to correct the abuses of Ireland, which looked to 
him now as the real restorer of their rights. The trem¬ 
bling protestants were now in a fearful dilemma—most 
of old Cromwell’s soldiers were just taking leave of the 
land for which they had struggled, and a hopeful progeny 
were waiting to put on the armour when their fathers 
should drop it: and when they were about entering into 
their desired Canaan, this popish king, without a decree 
from parliament, was about upsetting all, and giving the 
catholics that possession which, by unjust violence, had 
been torn from them. 

Everything was re-modelled, without preface or 
apology, judge or jury, as his faithful protestant prede¬ 
cessor Cromwell had done ; so he “ conferred not with 
flesh and blood,” but wherever they stood in his way, he 
hewed down one, and split the other, till catholics looked 
up again, as men, in civil and military offices, though not 
to the entire exclusion of protestants, as they had been 
excluded when the protestants prevailed. 

As nine-tenths professed the catholic faith, of course 
these nine-tenths had a paramount claim; but as reck¬ 
less, bigotted and unjust, as James truly was, yet he was 
more honourable than his predecessors had been, for he 
allowed one-third of the officers to be protestants. The 
history of Scotland, and the covenanters, can tell the 
cruelty of this wretched man : but in Ireland the pro- 


OF IRELAND. 


87 


testants feared more for their estates than their lives; 
for what with a furious unprincipled king, and an earl 
appointed to the command of the army, of a decided 
character—catholic in his religion, and who having seen, 
when a child, the massacres at Drogheda by Cromwell, 
he associated nothing but horror in his mind towards 
puritanism. Ireland, under these new rulers, was likely 
to undergo new scenes, or at least the old games played 
over quite efficiently. Clarendon, who v r as lord-deputy, 
remonstrated with both the king and Talbot the earl, 
and was repaid by being called back to England, and 
drew many protestant families after him. Tyrconnel 
re-modelled the corporation, quarrelled with the Dublin 
college, wffiich refused to take catholics within its walls, 
and because they w’ere about selling the college plate to 
prevent the government getting possession. They con¬ 
quered Talbot, and he revenged by stopping the pension 
which the state annually paid. Distraction followed—a 
bill w r as presented to overturn the Act of Settlement and 
Explanation : the protestants now were alarmed in good 
earnest. The bill was rejected, the Irish were scouted 
in public, and when they appeared on the streets of 
London, the populace attended them with potatoes stuck 
upon the tops of poles, and shouting, “ Doom for the Irish 
ambassadors.” 

James was determined on absolute dominion, and 
boldly asserted it,—“ non-resistance to the powers that 
be,” was a favourite principle with Mm; but non- 
resistance he met, and from a quarter where he least 
expected. At Oxford, he attempted to appoint Bishop 
Parker to the mastership of Magdalen, he was opposed, 
and the contest ended by the obstinate students being 
expelled, and joining themselves to the king’s opponents. 
The tory party were now flung into the whig interest, 
strengthening the power of the presbyterians, who were 
looking to W illiam Prince of Orange, as for their last 
and only hope. 

James now assumed a new garb; like Charles I. 
chameleon-like, he could change his colour according to 
the tree he was on. Indulgence , toleration to all sects, 


88 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


was now the motto, but without the advice of parliament 
was this done, and this indulgence went to say that the 
king “ did allow and tolerate moderate presbyterians to 
worship in their private houses, and to hear such min¬ 
isters as had accepted of the king’s indulgences but 
catholics were left free to exercise and indulge all their 
religion. The protestants were a little suspicious of 
such indulgences. James w T ent on promoting catholics ; 
priests abounded in the court; and though the fires of 
Smithfield were not lighted anew, yet who could predict 
that they would not be soon ? 

Now whig and tory united invited William prince 
of Orange to come over and rid them of the monster 
James ; and on the 5th of November, 1688, the Prince 
of Orange landed at Torbay, to the no small consterna¬ 
tion of the despairing James, who when he found that 
William had an army of 15,000, many of whom were 
English, Scotch, and Irish protestants, who had served 
him on the continent, trembled ; his old friends deserted 
him, and even his daughter and her husband, Prince 
George of Denmark, fled under the protection of the 
Prince of Orange. 

When the old man was told of this, he exclaimed, 
“ God help me, my very children have forsaken me ! ” 
He fled, was seized at the Isle of Sheppy, and conducted 
to London to breathe the smoke of popish chapels then 
burning there ; he was shipped for Gravesend, took a 
fishing smack and sailed for France, and here is dated 
the revolution of 1668. 

But how was it with the new Orange Prince. He 
was almost deserted by the aristocracy, who sent for 
him, the whigs and tories were afraid to join the man 
they had invited, but at last he is seated on the vacant 
throne ; the tories withdrew, and the whigs were left to 
share the honours of the revolution. 

Now for whig and tory monopoly : the government 
was in other hands, which though it did not forbid 
the liberty of conscience in so many words, yet it put 
the consciences of all upon the penalty of whatever 
the aristocracy might choose they should suffer, if any 


OF IRELAND. 


89 


were so presumptuous as not to be on tbe side of Orange 
men. 

The hurly-burly, zigzag movements of England and 
Ireland, through all the centuries they have been darting 
upon each other, are , aside from their serious conse¬ 
quences, ludicrous, and often ridiculous; chosing shadows 
in shape of kings, and “will-o’-the-wisps” for the light 
of religion ; and whether catholic or protestant grasped 
the phantom, he exulted alike in his present power, with 
this exception, that the catholics conscience was a little 
more elastic, and though he is the abused one, yet he 
made nicer distinctions between the “just and the unjust,” 
than did the protestants. 

Ireland now trembled; their friend James had fled, 
and the “usurper” William -was wielding England’s 
sceptre ; they determined to be loyal, and call back their 
old king. Protestantism had thus far robbed them of 
their dearest rights, and why should they trust her 
again. James in Ireland had not been a despot, he had 
granted her the privileges to which she was entitled, 
and he had not deprived the protestants, catholic as 
he was, of a respectable share in the blessings. The 
Irish would not and did not cast him off, as England 
had done, but sent for King James; in the meantime, 
Tyrconnel acted with much sagacity, the protestants 
were fearfully aroused by the intelligence that the Irish 
were about to rise and massacre all the protestants ; in 
haste and in crowds they fled to the shore, imploring to 
be saved from popish daggers; but the protestants of 
Ulster determined to bide their time, and defend them¬ 
selves. 

The story of the siege of Derry is too well known to 
be lingered upon in this hasty detail, and let a few 
outlines suffice. Scotch presbyterians principally inha¬ 
bited the city, and they determined to resist Tyrconnel 
to the last; this catholic commander had dispatched 
the Earl of Antrim to take possession of the city, with 
a body of 12,000 Highlanders, these hardy, wild, and 
ferocious company, must certainly be a “ terror to evil 
doers,” and those that “did well ” had need to see that 


90 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


their foundation was a good one. When the people of 
Londonderry heard that twelve miles off this savage 
herd had halted, at Limavaddy, they rose together for 
consultation, and while they did so, two officers had 
reached the town, seeking quarters. Nine young 
“’prentice lads” seized their swords and the keys of 
the city, ran towards the ferry-gate, raised the draw¬ 
bridge and shut the gates of the city. This intrepid 
and noble step stimulated the citizens, multitudes 
flocked from neighbouring places to defend the city. 
William offered terms of negotiation to Tyrconnel, 
honourable to the catholics, they were rejected, James 
landed at Kinsale, and was everywhere met with en¬ 
thusiastic joy; and when he entered Dublin a silken 
canopy was hung over his course, and forty youDg 
damsels clad in white, walked before his horse, strewing 
flowers in his path, while “ Long live the king ! ” rent 
the air. 

James soon marched to Derry, where a company of 
badly-disciplined and badly-armed men were huddled, 
with a surplus force of 25,000 men, women and children, 
who had crowded the town ; they had no leader and 
no organization, but Murray and Walker, the first a 
medical man and the second a clergyman, approached 
the populace, crying 11 no surrender ,” and surrender they 
did not; though James in earnest attacked the town 
and though famine was now killing many, yet the cry 
of “ no surrender ,” kept up the spirit : and at the end, 
when dogs, cats, and raw hides, had been eaten, a fleet 
of thirty sail came in sight, only to tantalize them'by 
sailing away, and telling the besiegers, “ to be good 
husbands of their provisions.” 

They held out still, when General Rosen ordered all 
the protestant men, women, and children that could be 
collected in the neighbouring counties, to be driven at 
the point of the sword, under the walls of the town ; 
they entered groaning and weeping, while the soldiers, 
who were ordered to push them on, did it with tears, 
and when the garrison saw the hideous spectacle, they 
erected a gallows in sight of the enemy, and told them 


OF IRELAND. 


91 


that they would hang every prisoner, unless these were 
sent back, while the sufferers under the wall raised 
their hands, and begged the garrison to continue to the 
last. Two days they were kept there, when Rosen 
found that his own army were opposed to his conduct, 
allowed them to pass through his lines and depart ; the 
garrison, in the meantime, secured all the able-bodied 
young men, and sent away 500 of the helpless to fill 
their places. James, when he heard, in Dublin, of this 
transaction, immediately ordered that the captives should 
be released. 

When the siege had lasted 105 days, and 9000 had 
famished within the walls, on the 30th of July, the 
Dartmouth frigate, with a convoy of three vessels came, 
laden with provisions for their relief. The boom which 
the enemy had placed there, when the thirty sail ap¬ 
peared, was still an obstruction ; the enemy poured 
upon the approaching ships a brisk fire, it was briskly 
returned; one of the victuallers dashed against the 
boom, burst it, but the rebound drove the vessel ashore. 
The Irish shouted in exultation, fired a broadside against 
them, which righted the vessel, and she sailed slowly up 
to the famished, frantic city. There was strength left 
to ring merrily the bells of the cathedral—the siege was 
raised, and the noble Derryites were free. Walker had 
done nobly to exhort them to patience, and his name 
now stands written on a tall monument, which towers 
above the city, while the “ ’prentice lads” annually cele¬ 
brate the day when the keys were snatched and the draw¬ 
bridge taken up. 

Orangemen still live, and still keep up the boasting 
of that glorious defeat. The Enniskilliners too, at that 
time, near Newtown Butler, by a mere accident appa¬ 
rently routed and killed 2000 Irish, drowned 500 in 
Louffh Eirne, and took a large number of prisoners. 
These Enniskilliners were a helter-skelter company of 
Ulster Cossacks, ferocious, without order, fighting fear¬ 
fully at random, riding on horseback with a man to 
carry baggage, hating the Irish, and fighting manfully 
for protestants. 


92 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


James summons a parliament and repeals the Act of 
Settlement, restoring the lands to their right owners, 
and this just act was followed by one not wholly correct, 
which attainted and declared all property to be forfeited, 
held by gentlemen who were suspected of being partisans 
to the new government; 2000 noblemen and gentlemen 
were required to surrender and be loyal, or on a certain 
day the claim would take effect. 

Other good and equitable laws were passed, which 
gave equal liberty to all parties; one was, that all 
should pay tithes to their own denomination, while now 
all are compelled to pay to one , whether of his belief or 
not. But James was too fluctuating and too cowardly 
to be found long in one place, and he is soon peremp¬ 
torily demanding <£40,000. per month, double what he 
was then allowed—was angry at the refusal, and shortly 
he is found expelling the students from Dublin college, 
converting them into barracks, because they refused a 
Homan catholic the office of a senior fellow. 

William of Orange now felt that the safety of his 
English power lay in the conquest of Ireland ; and 
accordingly sent an army of what were called “ merce¬ 
naries,^ the outskirts, the “ pell-mell,” of all continental 
nations which could be rummaged, and placed them 
under Schomberg, who landed with this frightful, hetero¬ 
geneous mass, on the 13th of August, at Carrickfergus. 
The castle, commanded by Macarty More, was defended 
bravely for a time, then he surrendered, and marched 
out with the honours of war. Schomberg marched to 
the west, his army burned Newry and Corlingford, but 
he forbade these depredations in future, and pitched 
his camp at Dundalk, where he was soon in great 
straits; his troops became sick by privation, and the 
ground was thick with loathsome corpses; he shifted 
his army, and as he moved threw out the dead from the 
waggons, till the rear-guard had a bridge of dead bodies 
to walk over. Thus ended this campaign. England 
was indignant, and William determined to leave the 
country in the hands of his wife, Queen Mary, and go 
in person to Ireland. He reached Belfast, June 14th, 


OF IRELAND. 


93 


1690 ; 7000 of liis army had landed before him, making 
in all a body of 38,000 men, well-disciplined veterans, 
who had been driven by Louis XIV. from France, and 
who hated the catholics; these joined to the Enniskilliners 
together with the fragments of Schomberg’s troops, 
made a formidable army, fitted for plunder and debau¬ 
chery of every kind. William lost no time. They had 
previously secured the favour of the presbyterians of 
the north, by a royal gift of £1200. per annum, which 
is now the famous bone of contention, called the Re- 
gium Donum. This bribery has been augmented, to 
keep up protestant interest, till, in 1842, £55,156. 3s. 2d. 
was the amount, adding a grant of £1950. for the 
Belfast presbyterian college. To the credit of the inde¬ 
pendents, they have refused this bribery, and many of 
the presbyterians have doubts on the subject. 

William went southward. James had committed his 
army principally to Frenchmen, rejecting his Irish sub¬ 
jects, for it was Louis that James wished to favour, and 
put Ireland under his protection. William stood on 
slippery ground. His hold on England was not strong, 
the northern parts of Scotland were at variance with 
him, and this struggle involved all Europe, as James 
was fighting for Louis in the catholic cause, and William 
for all the persecuted protestants over the continent. 
Ireland in this contest seemed to be chosen as the play¬ 
ground for James and William to divide the game, and 
the Irish, who would share in the glorious results, were 
to look on. James’ officers were Frenchmen, and the Irish 
soldiers in his ranks were indignant at such a choice. 
William had chosen his from all “ nations, kindred, and 
tongues,” who had nothing to do but to fight, and no 
prey so palatable as that of the catholics to their high- 
seasoned palates. 

James had been tardy, as if loth to engage; but on 
the 28th of June he reached the river Boyne, near 
Drogheda, with an army of 30,000. He crossed and 
stationed himself on the right bank of that beautiful 
river, whose gently flowing waters and rich emerald 
meadow's invite to anything but fierce bloodshed between 


94 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


men made in the image of God. A pass was behind 
them ; in case of emergency James could retreat. 

On the 30th, William and his army arrived on the 
opposite side, and well might a bloody warrior ask, 
when he surveyed the rich scenery around him, “ Be¬ 
hold,” turning to his officers, “ is not this a land worth 
fighting for?” The recital in detail of the fatal battle 
can be better told by fighting men than by the pen of 
one who hates the principle and practice of war. Enough 
for the writer to say, that in August, 1845, I stood by 
the famous monument erected to William, in company 
with a presbyterian clergyman who was receiving his 
“jRegium Donum” from this same William of Orange, 
and he graphically described how, on that sunny morn¬ 
ing, not a cloud swept over the horizon when William 
commenced the battle— how, by the indecision of James, 
(“ as the Lord would have it,”) that the enemy rushed 
into the river, and with 10,000 English horse and foot 
forded the stream, fought bravely, and scattered the Irish. 
This was but the beginning ;—the successful attacks of 
the Irish cavalry spread alarm ; but the old grey-headed 
French Huguenot stimulated his treops by pointing to 
the catholics in James’ rank of Frenchmen, and shout¬ 
ing “Allons, messieurs, voila vos persecuteurs !” A shot 
through his neck stopped his breath. James at a safe 
distance, with a body-guard of 6000 Frenchmen, was 
looking on, nor moved to stimulate his men, when 
William crossed the river through a most difficult pass, 
hastened to the Enniskilliners, and asked, “ What will 
you do for me?” A shout and advance answered, but 
they were repulsed. Doubtful hung the event till the 
Irish, deserted by James and his Frenchmen, gave up 
the contest. William made no prisoners, took no spoil; 
and had James acted like an interested leader, the hated 
name of “ orangemen” might never have lived to keep 
up so much enmity between these now bitter partisans. 
James was soon safe in Dublin, whining about his army, 
who had, he said, deserted him. He then fled towards 
Waterford, breaking down every bridge that he crossed, 
and William the next day took Drogheda. The military 


OF IRELAND. 


95 


leaders of James liberated all the protestant prisoners, 
and marched to Athlone and Limerick. William went 
into the cathedral of St. Patrick at Dublin, and rendered 
thanks to God for the victory. 

The protestants then urged that all the property of 
the Irish should be seized who had adhered to James, 
which drove the peasantry to madness, and they were 
forced again to take up arms. William went to the 
south; Wexford, Waterford, Duncannon, and Clonmel 
received him, and the most ruffianly conduct marked the 
conduct of the soldiers—violence, plunder, and murder. 
Douglass marched to Athlone, was there defeated by the 
old man Grace, who had resisted Cromwell to the last, 
and now had life enough remaining to manage the 
garrison, which he did successfully. William sent to 
Limerick, demanded a surrender in vain ; that garrison 
had stood firm against the Normans and against Crom¬ 
well, and had not the least inclination to submit to 
William. In vain he thundered his cannon—in vain he 
gathered new supplies ; that old castle, which had then 
stood four hundred years, defied all force. Three hours 
sometimes hand to hand they fought; the women seizing 
whatever instruments they could from the slain, fought 
with desperation, reproaching the villainous soldiers of 
William for their treatment to women, declaring they 
would be torn in “ piecemeal” before they would fall into 
their power. William lost 2000, and was glad to depart. 
His hope was to return to England, but was persuaded 
to send an army to take Cork a prey, which he did under 
the command of Marlborough, who secured it and went 
to Kinsale, which after a short resistance was taken, and 
returned in a month to England laden with honours. 

Ginckle and Sarsfield now carried on the war, till 
James sent Saint lluth, a French commander, in the 
room of the energetic Sarsfield. Saint Ruth was a 
boasting French coxcomb, delighting more in balls and 
pleasure parties than in fighting for the Irish. Athlone 
is besieged by Ginckle and driven back by the brave 
Irish, and all his means baffled. In vain he lays bridges 
or planks to cross the river; they are pulled away or 


96 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


burned down. Saint Ruth, self-confident, becomes quite 
sure, and in bis revelry, or rather stupidity, in conse¬ 
quence of a night’s sport at a ball, at the rising of the 
sun the signal bell tolls ; arm in arm, twenty abreast, in 
water nearly to the chin, the British army cross the 
stream, and while this was doing planks were flung over 
the bridge, and Ginckle and the remainder of his army 
were amidst the astonished Irish, who, many of them 
asleep, rushed out “ half-clad,” and fled to Saint Ruth, 
who replied, when told of the disaster, “Well, let the 
army advance and beat them back again.’’ Too late for 
this: the garrison was taken, two thousand of the Irish 
slain or taken prisoners, and Saint Ruth lost all repute. 
Ginckle offered honourable terms of pardon, full pos¬ 
session of estates, and free exercise of religion, on con¬ 
dition of laying down arms, and acknowledging William 
as sovereign. Saint Ruth, jealous for Louis, refused, 
and the fearful battle of Aughrim decided the question. 
The Irish cavalry were men of valour, had shown it at 
the battle of Boyne, and now were on the eve of con¬ 
quest, when Saint Ruth at the head, and the priests 
on every hand stimulating to action and conquest, a 
ball killed Saint Ruth; a cloak was flung over his 
body to conceal him from the army, but, having no 
leader, confusion followed, the English gained advan¬ 
tage, and for three hours, butchering for three long 
miles strewed the ground with the slain. 7000 of the 
Irish fell and 1700 of killed and wounded among the 
English. Ginckle, elated, now secured Portumna, Mo- 
nagher, Loughrea, and then Galway, with little or no 
opposition. Ginckle, like William, was honourable in 
his terms towards the catholics, and was much censured 
by the ascendant protestants for his liberality. Limerick 
was now in prospect : valorous, noble Limerick—which 
had hitherto defied all assaults, must be taken. The 
wise Ginckle proceeded cautiously, burning the out¬ 
skirts of the town, where he could then find the old 
fortification, for many days before a breach was made, 
but dare not storm it; treachery relieved him—an Irish 
officer by the name of Clifford, who “ sould the pass,” 


OF IRELAND. 


97 


was stationed, with four regiments of dragoons, at a 
place in the Shannon, which was fordable, and had 
offered it to the English, and Ginckle, under pretence of 
retreating, dismounted his batteries; the Irish shouted 
for joy, when lo ! Ginckle was among them ; he had 
completed a bridge in the night, of ten boats, and passed 
over with 600 grenadiers, beside a body of horse and 
foot; the Irish fled, left their accoutrements, but were 
not pursued; the garrison was well supplied with 14,000 
men and a good supply of provisions, and Ginckle was 
willing to offer the best terms for peace, for he knew 
that he had gained this ground only by treachery, and 
the garrison determined to resist to the last. But Tal- 
mash urged another attack, and the storming began. A 
strong body of the Irish determined to oppose the pass 
at Thomond-bridge, and here for hours did a most awful 
struggle continue; the maddening armies rushed upon 
each other—cannons roared—from the garrison a con¬ 
tinued fire of shot poured upon the English; when the 
British were about defeated the grenadiers were ordered 
to the charge, and the Irish, manned afresh, disputed 
the ground with fearful, inflexible resistance. A French 
officer now turned the battle, by ordering the draw¬ 
bridge to be raised to prevent the grenadiers from pass¬ 
ing onward. The Irish, not understanding this, thought 
it treachery, and broke and scattered; some attempted 
to swim across the Shannon into the city, many were 
drowned, 600 were bayoneted by English grenadiers, 
100 were made prisoners, and had not the officers inter¬ 
ceded they would have been killed.’ Ginckle was willing 
to desist, and a three days’ truce induced the Irish to 
offer terms of capitulation, and after a siege of six weeks, 
terms of treaty were agreed to, honourable to Ginckle, 
and happy for Ireland, had these terms been regarded 
as sacred. The substance as recorded, is summed up 
from the detailed articles, by a late author, in the follow¬ 
ing words, which are here inserted :— 

“ The celebrated treaty of Limerick, consisted of two 
parts, civil and military. The civil articles provided, 
that all Roman catholics should enjoy the exercise 

F 


98 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


of their religion, as in the reign of Charles II., their 
majesties promising as soon as their affairs would permit 
them to summon a parliament, to give the Irish catholics 
further security in this particular. Roman catholics 
were to be required only to take the oath of allegiance 
and no other. The inhabitants of Limerick, and all those 
under commission of James, in the counties of Limerick, 
Clare, Kerry, Cork, and Mayo, and all the commissioned 
officers then serving in the Irish army, were to enjoy 
free possession of their properties and estates, with full 
liberty to exercise their professions and callings, as in 
the reign of Charles II. The catholic gentry were also 
allowed the use of arms as gentlemen. 

The military articles stipulated for the surrender of 
Limerick, and the other fortresses in the possession of 
the Irish, and provided, that the garrison should march 
out with the honours of war, and be provided with 
shipping, if they required, to convey them to France or 
elsewhere, at the expense of the English government.” 

This treaty was certainly satisfactory, if not honour¬ 
able, and had William and Ginckle carried it forward as 
stipulated, and as they no doubt wished, war would have 
ceased, and Ireland might have been a thriving people. 

The orangemen of Ireland would do much more 
honour to the name they bear, did they manifest the spirit 
towards their country that William did; his was Dot so 
much a conquest of tyranny—as was his predecessor 
Cromwell—he neither practised himself, nor countenanced 
in his soldiers, wholesale plunder or butchery. 


CHAPTER VII. 

“ Hope and fear alternate rise.” 

We now have reached a point in the history of a people 
where we gladly sit down on the little bright eminence 
and before the din of battle the smoke of cannon, and the 
groans of the dying have wholly died away, we turn back 



OF IRELAND. 


99 

the sad leaves of the “ Black Book” of Ireland’s records, 
and as at the last we find an illuminated page, and 
written thereon, Hope ! willingly would we say, Onward , 
Onward ! But what is the goal to which she must pass 
—and what is to be the reward at the end of her race. 

Who has shown her any lasting good ? Who has held 
out the olive-branch of peace, to her on any equable terms 
of national rights and justice 1 If an isolated ruler here 
and there showed a little lenity, his power was im¬ 
mediately curtailed, by a parliament crying “popery,” 
“ mere Irish,” “ rebellion,” bind her hand and foot, and 
cast her into utter darkness, and as the smoke of her 
torment has ascended, they have devoutly said, “ Amen, 
Hallelujah!” Is this severe 1 — Would that it ivere —would 
that these stubborn facts were libels—and though my 
pen had recorded them, gladly would I blot the execrable 
page, and write mistaken. 

Ireland we often hear is ungrateful, indeed ungrateful. 
But let us hear, in all good conscience, what should make 
her grateful, and to whom does she owe this mighty debt 
of gratitude ? Is it that when her rights of land and 
home, of worship and education, are wrested from her on 
penalty of banishment or death, that she spurns from her 
a religion and education offered from the hands that 
have pillaged her, and hearts that have been steeled to 
all the tender susceptibilities of life ? Is she ungrateful 
for not acknowledging a boon which is a God-given right , 
and which no man can give, nor no man justly take 
away; a right to possess her own inheritance, and 
worship her God in the form best suited to her inclina¬ 
tions l Is she ungrateful, that when her manufactures 
are prohibited, her labour cut off, and her haughty task¬ 
masters remunerate her labour by rags for covering, and 
potatoes for eating, that she feels her sufferings, and 
when this potato by the wrath of the Almighty has been 
blasted, and her rulers have sent her sacks of meal and 
hampers of bread, and soldiers with guns and bayonets, 
to keep this meal from hungry jaws; is she then un¬ 
grateful that she does not lick the hand which has 
not returned a fractional part of the interest of that 

f 2 


100 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


principal which is her moral right, and which had she 
for centuries possessed, would not have driven her, like 
the beasts of the field, to feed upon a single root for 
ages ? But is she ungrateful ? Listen , kind reader. 
Ireland, bruised and mangled, “ tattered and torn’' as 
she is, knows the hand that feeds her with that " charity 
that never faileth,” and the hands that throws it at her 
as to a ravenous beast, to keep him at bay. Well does 
she know the name of Quaker, the name of churches and 
chapels, and transatlantic people who flew to her aid, 
and gratefully does she lavish her thanksgivings on those 
hearty benefactors. But we left her under the morning 
dawn of that treaty of Limerick, and we follow the 
well-intentioned William home to give an account to 
parliament of his doings. He was surrounded with 
all grades of protestants, not only in England, but Ire¬ 
land and Scotland ; and parliament at length put forth 
her strength, till the tolerant part of that treaty was all 
melted away. Then in nine years after the return of 
William, when priests had again been prohibited a 
home in Ireland, after May 1698, under penalty of 
imprisonment and transportation, and if they returned 
death must be the penalty, when Irish teachers were 
forbidden to teach Irish children, and if any were sent 
abroad, however young, to be educated in any public 
school or private family, such an offender should be dis¬ 
abled to sue for debt, to prosecute any action, &c., and 
to be guardian, administrator or executor of any person, 
should forfeit all his estates for ever; then, when all 
these acts were framed, and still more, the parliament 
presented a bill to confirm the “treaty of Limerick.” 
The woollen manufacture was discouraged, the linen- 
trade was taxed 30 per cent., and flung thousands out of 
employ. Irish silks, cottons, malt and beer, were pro¬ 
hibited, and even catholic coal-porters were carried into 
the committee of grievances, and what was left, but to 
prowl about in despair, preying upon their oppressors 
when and where they could, under a virtual slavery, 
worse than death. 

For a century they struggled on under different reigns, 


OF IRELAND. 


101 


each making the old fetters stronger, or forging heavier 
ones. Queen Anne garnished all the sepulchres that 
Elizabeth had built; acts were passed that might well 
make the cannibal nations of the islands of the sea blush 
to own, read them who will,—read the conniving, the 
wording to avoid that treaty, and at last read the provi¬ 
sions of the Act to prevent the further growth of popery, 
which would disgrace the pages of the Koran ; they 
are fitted only for the “ Statute Book,’’ and the age in 
which they were written. When George I. ascended 
the throne, Ireland was a mass of corruption and misery 
unparalleled ; agriculture was hardly known, — whole 
villages were depopulated,—arable land was now used 
for feeding sheep, because a wise law had enacted that 
no tithes should be paid for pasturage; consequently 
this burden must come upon the poor peasant who had 
a potatoe-plot, to pay for the protestant faith,—woods 
were cut down, which will explain why so many miles 
are destitute of a tree, and the wasted lands could not 
support the inhabitants. The land was covered with 
beggars, — history states that five-sixths of the poor 
families were left to prey on the remainder; persecutions 
increased, and the people had become so crushed, that 
they suffered in gloom and sullen silence ; like the poor 
American slave, they crouched before their lords,—their 
spirit broken, looking only to death to relieve them. 

Dean Swift, an Englishman born in Ireland, but living 
in England, was sent across the channel to take upon 
him the appointment of the Deanery of St. Patrick’s, 
in Dublin ; this man was a “ Tory of the old school,” 
consequently dissenters or catholics had little to hope 
from him. Wyse, in his Historical Sketch, says, page 27, 
speaking of the ascendancy, “ that it was now and hence¬ 
forward almost exclusively English, and for English 
purposes.” 

The aid of the Irish presbyterian was now rejected 
with contempt. “ The poisoned chalice was now re¬ 
turned to his own lips,” the exclusive system was turned 
against him—he had made the executive entirely pro¬ 
testant. The whigs of George I. made it entirely 


102 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


English. This ascendancy was strengthened if not 
gained by the Irish House of Lords, which passed an act 
reading thus : that the “ British parliament has full 
power and authority to make laws and statutes of suffi¬ 
cient force and validity to bind the people of Ireland.” 

Here was a finely-spun net, deliberately wrought by 
the people themselves, and the English well knew how 
to catch in this snare the silly contrivers of their own 
ruin. The presbyterians, who had worked faithfully with 
the government to crush all catholic power and interest, 
when they had both succeeded, found themselves too, 
snared and taken. This ascendancy wanted no dissent; 
the church and state fabric was beautiful in the exterior , 
and in their fond eyes “ had neither spot nor wrinkle, 
nor any such thingdissent was dashing the muddy 
waters of schism on this pretty garment, and thus placing 
itself on a line between the two fires of protestant ascen¬ 
dancy on one side, and popish idolatry on the other. The 
power which the English parliament had now in their 
hands was not all used at once, it left sufficient in the 
possession of the Irish legislature to inflict whatever 
punishments, in their wisdom, they might think necessary 
upon the catholics. These laws w T ere multiplied against 
the catholics, or rather the old ones more rigidly enforced. 
Priest-hunting “became a fashionable sport,” and “blood- 
money ” was lavished in profusion. One act passed in 
1726 reads, “ that any popish priest who should marry 
a Roman catholic to a protestant, should be guilty of 
felony , and suffer death accordingly.” 

In the midst of this darkness Dean Swdft made his 
entrance into the capital of Ireland—a man better knowm 
for a tact at satire than for holiness of life. He despised 
Ireland more than he loved it, yet he saw that something 
should be done to stimulate the people to press their 
energies to national objects. He says, “ Whatever stranger 
took a journey in Ireland, would be apt to think him¬ 
self travelling in Lapland or Yceland, rather than in a 
country so favoured by nature as ours, both in fruit¬ 
fulness of soil and temperature of climate. The miser¬ 
able dress and diet of the people ; the general desolation 


OF IRELAND. 


103 


in most parts of the kingdom; the old seats of the 
nobility and gentry all in ruins, and no new ones in their 
stead ; the families of the farmers, who pay great rents, 
living in filth and nastiness upon buttermilk and pota¬ 
toes, without a shoe or stocking to their feet, or a house 
so convenient as an English hog-sty to receive them.'’ 

Swift did not long see these miseries before he made 
an investigation into the cause ; and the cause he found 
was greatly owing to William III., who prohibited the 
importation of woollen goods from Ireland to foreign 
countries : he wrote a pamphlet for the universal use of 
Irish manufactures to the exclusion of the English. 

“ Let a firm resolution be taken by male and female, 
never to appear with one shred that comes from England , 
and let all the people say amen.” Ireland would never 
be happy, he added, “ till a law was made for burning 
every thing that comes from England, except the people 
and their coals.” This pamphlet excited the people— 
startled England ; the printer was prosecuted—the jury 
said, Not Guilty. Swift kept up the fire till he wrote 
the fourth pamphlet, in which he says to the Irish, 

“ The remedy is in your own hands, and therefore I have 
digressed a little to let you see, that by the laws of God , 
of nature , of nations , and of your country, you are and 
ought to he as free a people as your brethren in England. 
£300. was offered as a reward for discovery of the author 
of the fourth Drapier’s Letter ; the printer was cast into 
prison. Swift boldly defended the prisoner s cause, and 
the grand jury brought a verdict of ignoramus upon the 
bill. Swift conquered, and the Irish bestowed on him 
every honour possible till he went to the grave—-they 
never forgot his patriotism. And that people which he 
at first thought as but little worth, became his warmest 
friends, and even his favourites. He possessed strange 
contradictions of character ■while he considered Ire¬ 

land as crushed, and crushed unjustly —while he aroused 
their energies to assert their rights, yet we see written, 
that he opposed all measures for the relief of any severity 
against the dissenters, and sneered at the claims of the 
catholics in these words : “ We look upon them to be 


104 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


altogether as inconsiderable as women and children. 
Their lands are almost entirely taken from them, and 
they are incapable of purchasing any more, and for the 
little that remains, provision is made by the late act 
against popery, that it will daily crumble away. In the 
mean time, the common people, without leaders, without 
discipline, or natural courage, being little better than 
‘ hewers of wood and drawers of water,’ are out of all 
capacity of doing any mischief, if they were ever so well 
inclined.” 

Swift died, and with him the effort to sustain home 
manufactures ; and Ireland is now a vast “ estate farmed 
by English managers.” When George II., in 1727, 
ascended the throne, the catholic nobility, gentry, and 
clergy, sent by Lord Delevane a most humble address. 
This address, loyal as it was, and representing five- 
sixths of the people, never was noticed, nor never so 
much as heard of; and in the same year the last wreck 
to which they clung was wrested from them—“ the rem¬ 
nant of a franchise ,” and again the little flickering hope 
that was trembling in their wretched lamp expired. 
George II. secured the tithes for the church, and so 
happily adjusted them, that the peasantry bore the 
burden ; and the distress was fearfully augmented by a 
famine in 1740, which swept away four hundred thousand 
of these poor sufferers, who died after having eaten dogs, 
cats, mice, and all sorts of nauseous food. They crept to 
the fields for nettles and herbs—there they died, being 
-so exhausted they could not return ; their bodies lay 
upon the highways and fields, where the kites and vul¬ 
tures preyed upon them.” This terrible calamity was 
construed as a signal judgment on the poor wretches, and 
presses and pulpits were busy to turn it to the best 
account upon the heads of the remaining sufferers ; 
like the indefatigable clergyman on the island of Achill, 
in 1846-7, who wrote a tract, and circulated it in 
Sabbath-schools, seriously and solemnly attributing the 
fearful blasting of the potatoe to the three great evils foF 
which Ireland had pulled down the wrath of heaven, 
viz., murders, idolatry , and the “ Maynooth Grantf and 


OP IRELAND. 


105 


this he confirmed by telling the poor culprits that he had 
long told them so, and they would not repent. But 
mark, these sins were piled upon the poor catholics’ 
heads, as the only idolaters, the only murderers, and the 
presumptuous receivers of the “ Maynooth Grant” were 
to have the greatest share of the guilt; and here it may 
not be untimely to state, that no one who reads the his¬ 
tory of Ireland in past days, and compares the spirit 
and doings of them with the present, can dispute either 
the authenticity of that history or that the spirit of man 
is alike in all ages. When the protestants and dis¬ 
senters of Ireland heard the awful news that the English 
Government had become so corrupt as to bestow a grant 
on a catholic college, their hearts were stirred within 
them. They talked, they wrote, they petitioned, they 
assembled in churches, and made fervent prayers that 
the fearful judgment might somehow be staid ; and 
while these prayers and this incense was ascending the 
potatoe suddenly “gathered blackness!!” And who then 
could doubt ? The protestant Bishop of Dublin had the 
candour to say, that if we must have a Romish clergy, 
let us have an enlightened one, as our great hope lies in 
the knowledge of that body, not in their ignorance ; and 
as the catholics count six out of seven of the population, 
why have they not a claim \ A Regium Donum man 
said, in Belfast, “ One of two things should be done: 
we presbyterians should give up our donation, or the 
catholics should share in the same, as counting the 
greater number paying heavy taxes, and the original 
proprietors of the land.” This was common sense and 
common justice j but how few acted in accordance. 

In the famine of 1743, new excitements of invasions 
from France and rebellion from Ireland called for more 
stringent laws, and Curry in his Historical Review says, 
that a nobleman and privy councillor stated, that “ as 
the papists had begun the massacre on them, about an 
hundred years before, so he thought it both reasonable 
and justful on their parts to prevent them at that 
dangerous juncture, by first falling upon them and 
the same author adds, that at Lurgan “a conspiracy 


106 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


was formed to rise in the night-time and destroy all 
their catholic neighbours in their beds.” The conspiracy 
was discovered, and a stop put to the wicked plot. 

A disarmament took place, chapels were shut up, 
monastic institutions suppressed, and again every avenue 
of hope was closed. But behold, a new and tempting 
sop now comes, no less than the all-accomplished Lord 
Chesterfield, who is sent to conciliate the catholics, 
whom he hated with all his heart ; but a rebellion in 
Scotland called for exertions to soothe the Irish towards 
England, and prepare them to oppose the Highlanders 
who were rising against government. Chesterfield had 
opiates of various sorts—he opened the catholic chapels, 
set their priests at liberty, and the poor duped Irish 
would as cheerfully have kissed his toe as that of the 
pope, though it was a protestant one. He kept all quiet 
during that year, while he was writing to parliament to 
exercise strictly the penal laws, which in 1746 were fol¬ 
lowed by two acts, the first annulling all marriages that 
should take place after May 1746, between protestants 
and catholics ; the second, that any popish priest who 
married two protestants, or a protestant and catholic, 
should be hanged. Chesterfield succeeded in the decep¬ 
tion, and left Ireland the next year, with blessing on 
blessing, for the happy year enjoyed under his jurisdic¬ 
tion. Harrington supplied his place, and the catholics 
were again sent back to their old state, and George 
Stone, at the head of the dominant party, employed the 
vilest means to establish the ascendancy of English 
power so firmly as to dispense with the Irish parliament. 
The protestants were the opposers of this—got up a mob 
in Dublin, and compelled the members of both houses to 
take an oath to resist the union of the two countries. 

The reign of George II. was one of the most abject 
slavery ; all confidence was destroyed, and even pro¬ 
testants contended among themselves. Charles Lucas 
wrote a series of tracts called the Barber's Letters, loudly 
complaining of the corruptions of the servants of the 
government; the papists were stirred, and Lucas fled 
from Dublin. In this the catholics took no part, but 


OF IRELAND. 


107 


sunken and lost as they were, like a land where slavery 
predominates, there always remains a germ of life, that 
cannot and will not die; this germ makes its way 
through the most unfavourable obstructions, and starts 
out in some unexpected spot, asserting its right to sun 
and air, and though its root be nourished by no healthy 
soil, yet it stands forth to say, that it possesses all the 
properties of a plant of richest growth and finest hue. 

George Stone, loose and profligate as he was, we never 
hear was rebuked for his infamous and debauched resi¬ 
dence, which was made so that the younger members of 
the parliament might cater to his political influence ; 
nor do we hear that any of the protestant clergy were 
ever curtailed in any of their carnal pleasures, being 
mostly composed of men who hated popery because it 
owned not their supremacy, and who were planted there 
more as wolves to retain a prey which had been gotten 
by conquest, and which consequently required the same 
carnal weapons to keep it in power of the lion, than lixe 
shepherds of the flock. 

Many of these clergy are said to have been “ infidels,” 
and Swift, in one of his satires, says of the majority of 
them— 

« Of whom there are not four at most 

Who know there is a Holy Ghost,” &c. 

Wyse remarks of the catholic clergy, at the same time, 
u They dwelt not in the tranquil shadow of a protecting 
and paternal government, but in the midst of the shadow 
of death, with the inquisitor eye of a persecuting code 
about their paths ; teaching in the very sight of the 
gibbet, and often laying down their lives in testimony 
of the doctrines which they taught. They were in wilds 
and wastes, houseless and homeless, whose names were 
often unknown to the legislators who sought their 
blood.” But these never-dying persecutions upon priests 
and peasantry, worked out secret associations of despe¬ 
rate men, who sought revenge in ways quite unpleasant 
to the task-masters who held them in bondage. 

The “ White-boys,” a name well known, or as some 
call them, “levellers,” were a fearful band, and well 


108 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


might the guilty ones quake when their white shirts 
were lighting up the meadows and farm-yards of the 
usurping landlord. They were dressed outside in white 
shirts, and in the darkness of might, they “ levelled en¬ 
closures, houghed cattle, turned up the ground, and 
burned farm-yards.” This was a revenge practised upon 
landlords, who converted most of their ground into 
pasturage to “ clear off the poor people from their 
estates.” These were Tipperary men, not that Tipperary 
men are any more malicious than others, but it was 
settled by a class of people better informed than many 
other counties, and not being so easily crushed, seeing 
better the oppressive hand that bound them ; their 
proud, their tortured spirits, sought redress in any and 
every way, without consulting whether gospel principles 
approved or condemned. This law of nature does and 
will act, where grace has not supplanted it, and is the 
last law of the carnal heart that yields to a heavenly in¬ 
fluence. This done, the whole man is brought into the 
sweet subjection of the gospel of Christ. These were 
catholics, and it should be said that the question was 
not so much one of religion as of property, for the 
English catholics, who belonged to the pale, were as 
persecuting as the protestants upon the Irish catholics, 
and wherever the catholics found any justice meted 
towards them, they acknowledged w r ith the liveliest 
gratitude. The “ Oak-boys,” another company of ter- 
ribles, arose in Armagh, because they were compelled to 
spend a great portion of time in making roads, while 
the rich would not in the least contribute to the burden. 
This was in 1764, and they derived their name from 
wearing oak branches in their hats. These were pro¬ 
testants. The “Steele-boys,” another secret combination, 
arising from the conduct of an absentee nobleman in 
Donegal, who had great possessions in Antrim, and 
raised, large sums by letting the land at small rents, and 
receiving heavy fines upon the renewal of short leases. 
These ‘‘.boys ” resolved to pay these unjust fines in 
“ steele. The landlords in all these cases never relaxed 
the burdens, but added to the oppression by accumu- 




OF IRELAND. 


109 


lating punishments of the most fearful kind ; had they 
changed their severity and offered them justice, every 
“shirt” and “oak leaf” would have been doffed, and every 
“ steele ” converted to an instrument of nobler purpose. 
But no, these acts were punished by hanging without trial 
when caught, and the most coercive laws were added to 
the already severe ones upon the catholics, although the 
protestants of the north were doing the same; yet, as 
the legislature insisted that all originated in popery, so 
popery must be hanged wherever he could be caught. 

The White-boy outrages were imputed to the priests, 
and poor Nicholas Sheely, of Cloogheen, in Tipperary, was 
accused—one of the poorest priests belonging to one of the 
poorest parishes, and a man of most ardent benevolence ; 
all these qualifications were enough to fasten suspicion 
on him, and he gave himself up on condition that he 
should be tried before a Court of the King’s Bench at 
Dublin, instead of Clonmel. It was done, and a thorough 
scrutiny of fourteen hours honourably acquitted him. 
His enemies at Clonmel' reported that a man named 
Bridge had been murdered, to prevent giving witness. 
Sheely was taken to Clonmel, and the very evidence that 
had been rejected at Dublin, found him guilty,—he was 
condemned to be hanged and quartered, and to the last 
protested his innocence. Many others suffered the same 
deaths, by the accusations of the landlords, and no doubt 
remained, but that Bridge, the murdered man, had left 
the kingdom privately ; two witnesses swore that he 
had done so, and he was afterwards alive in the country. 
In the days of Robespierre, in France, the reign of terror 
could not be worse j the poor fled, as many as could, and 
those who staid, were in “jeopardy every hour so 
dreadful was the fear that the land was thinned of culti¬ 
vators ; many had been hanged, many were in jails, and 
many had escaped to other lands. Every miscreant from 
jails to stews, was brought forward for evidence, and 
any testimony seemed sufficient to hang a suspected man. 
But time, the great restorer of all things but Irish 
rights, brought to the door of the protestant another 
evtl, which, like an incubus, was bearing him down, 


110 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


when he had scourged and purged the land free from 
“ White-boys/’ and Munster murderers, he had a land 
overflowing with beggars. The penal laws prevented 
the catholics, who had property, from buying an estate, 
and the protestant could not sell—he could not give a 
Ions: lease to a catholic—and the wave seemed to roll 
back so heavily, that self-interest required some relaxation 
of severity sufficient at least to let the protestants rally, 
for by this rigorous course little could be brought into 
the revenue. 

It must be said, that the great body of the protestants 
in Ireland were idle, and that this brought them some¬ 
times into great difficulties concerning the cultivation 
of the land. The catholics had in the mean time not 
been asleep, to improve all that was left them to improve 
to their own advantage. All the privileges of commerce, 
which had been granted, were turned by the catholics 
to the best uses. Merchants and tradesmen had become 
rich by commerce, and had by the interchanges of trade 
united themselves insensibly together in one common 
interest, this had gradually frittered away the narrow 
prejudices which had hitherto alienated them ; and from 
this, principles of liberty were awakened, till growing 
from strength to strength, they at last burst forth into 
one grand flame, which lighted up the whole island. 

That ever-watchful eye which sees the end from the 
beginning, when the cycle turns round which is to pro¬ 
duce some new event, always has the material ready to 
develope and carry forward the plan. 

Mr. Wyse, Dr. Curry, and Mr. O’Conor, were the in¬ 
struments to put the machinery in motion which startled 
the kingdom. Dr. Curry seems to have been honoured 
with the first intimations of what should be done; having 
returned from the continent, where he had been edu¬ 
cated, and seeing the degraded state into wh’.ch his coun¬ 
try was sunk, his generous heart was pained at the sight, 
and he studied what to do for his fallen country. 

It was in the Castle-yard in Dublin, that he was 
brought to a point, which urged him to prepare A His¬ 
torical and Critical Review of the Civil Wars of Ireland, 


OF IRELAND. 


Ill 


which stands high as a work of candid, clear, and 
authentic investigation. He heard a young girl ex¬ 
claim with horror, and uplifted hands— Are there any of 
these bloody papists now in Dublin 2 He ascertained that 
the girl had been to Christ Church where she had heard 
an inflammatory sermon against the papists, which had 
frighted her childish heart, and drew forth this excla¬ 
mation. He obtained a copy of the sermon, and found 
it filled with terrific statements, and unjust slanders, 
which called for refutation. 

O’Conor was a philanthropist, and a great antiquary, 
had made himself acquainted with the history of his 
country; and in 1747, wrote a pamphlet which did 
much good, entitled A Protestant Dissenter. He wrote 
afterwards many others, which enlightened and roused 
the public mind. 

Mr. Wyse was active, judicious, and conscientious, and 
well calculated to gather the fragments of his scattered 
nation together, and cull from them the material best 
fitted for their great purpose. 

These three noble men addressed the few catholics 
among the aristocracy to unite with them, and petition 
the throne to mitigate the sufferings of their country ; 
but they rejected the plan entirely. They next applied 
to the priests ; they had been so hunted and secluded, 
that they thought of no more than to crawl from their 
hiding-places unseen, and administer to the sick what 
their duties required as priests, and from them all hope 
was vain. They then applied to the mercantile body ; 
they responded heartily, amidst opposition and ridicule 
from the catholic gentry and clergy; they persevered, 
formed an “Association,” and in 1759, they ventured to 
send a most servile address to the throne, styled, “ The 
Roman catholic gentlemen, merchants, and citizens of 
Dublin.” So crushed had they become, that this address 
must be sent through Mr. Ponsonby, a protestant, to the 
lord-lieutenant. The hour was a propitious one, the 
threatened invasion of the French was arousing Eng¬ 
land, and the government had always a few opiates .at 
hand for the galled Irish, when her pugnacious abilities 


112 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


were needed to aid them. The appeal was heard and 
answered, joy lighted up the dark countenances of 
many who had opposed the measure, and delegates were 
appointed from all parts of Ireland, to meet the associa¬ 
tion, and this plan of Mr. Wyse was the starting point 
from which issued a body of gigantic growth. 

George II. died, and George III. succeeded. He de¬ 
clared that he would be tolerant to religion, and that all 
should enjoy liberty to worship God as he pleased. 

Yet these three men had much to oppose; the aristo¬ 
cratic catholics had an aristocrat for their leader, who 
had been injudiciously chosen, because of his influence, 
and extensive wealth. Haughty and overbearing, he 
would not be opposed, which soon alienated the people, 
and caused dissensions in the association. 

But as something important was to be achieved, 
an unseen hand that turned the wheel presented a 
restraining power, that kept the threatening avalanche 
from demolishing the trembling framework of the build¬ 
ing. In the person of Lord Taafe, who, though he did 
not finally, like a Washington, bring his country to the 
consummation he most desired, yet like a Lamartine 
he checked the fierceness of the torrent, and set an ex¬ 
ample of integrity, love of country, and discriminating 
zeal worthy of a statesman and Christian. He was by 
birth an Irishman, but had been driven into Germany 
by the penal laws, and had gained great honours in the 
German court. He saw the difference in governments, 
where all religion was tolerated, and where it was not, 
and he too ardently hoped that he could do something- 
effectual for his bleeding country. The attachment of 
the Irish to their native land has no parallel; and this 
man, when age had whitened his brow, paid annual 
visits from Silesia in Prussia, in the “ depth of winter,” 
to Dublin. He struggled hard against his opponent and 
the anti-remonstrant party, but succeeded no further 
than to awaken new opinions, and keep alive the dying- 
embers of hope in the hearts of the people. The asso¬ 
ciation dissolved in 1763, yet it did not extinguish the 
fire that had been kindled, and the stone that was set 


OF IRELAND. 


113 


rolling gathered force as its velocity increased. The 
catholic shopkeepers and traders had suffered much from 
an imposition called quarterage , which was considered 
as a badge of servitude, as a right of conquest after the 
revolution. This protestant revenue was used for the 
“ purposes of providing regalia, ensigns, and colours for 
the different fraternities, to supporting reduced free¬ 
men, to burying the dead, to waiting on the mayor on 
days of solemnity, and providing anniversary entertain¬ 
ments.” Like the hated church tithes, these taxes were 
collected by seizures of goods and imprisonments, till 
the’burden became so intolerable, that the catholics in 
different towns determined to resist, and many were 
successful. Petitions were multiplied from the pro- 
testants, complaining that the catholics were collecting 
money to resist these sacred , long-established imposts; 
and a bill was prepared to encourage the protestants by 
“ confirming the rights of quarterage.” The catholics, 
in order to defray the expenses of courts, had levied 
a small sum of a half-penny or penny a head, and col¬ 
lected these sums into a general fund to be called out 
when required. This was the origin of what is now 
called the “ catholic rent.” This was all voluntary, and 
extended to France and America, till it swelled to a 
greater amount, and accomplished a greater object than 
was first designed. 

The “ Octennial Bill” now passed, which caused great 
rejoicing ; the parliament which had allowed the mem¬ 
bers seats for life, now gave them hut eight years, and 
though this upturning turned many catholic families 
from their farms to give protestant freeholders their 
places, yet in the end it roused a liberal party among 
the protestants. A new parliament met, and disputed 
concerning a privy council money bill, which curtailed 
the right from the House of Commons to dispose of the 
public money. The Irish aristocracy, headed by Mr. 
Flood and Lord Charlemont, were too strong for 
o-overnment. This ended in the dismissal of the house 
till the following March, and in the meantime all was 
activity, preparing bills for the catholics, that they might 


114 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


obtain leases of lands, which leases should be recorded 
for the information of future generations. A bill for 
encouraging papists to become protestants reads thus, 
“ Papists may take leases of land for any term of 
years, in any city or other market town not exceeding 
fifty square perches, and in any other part not exceed¬ 
ing fifty plantation acres ; no papist to have more than 
one lot; on taking his lease to take the oath of alle¬ 
giance, and at his death the lease to be divided among 
his successors ; and if the widow or children should con¬ 
form within twelve months, the conformist was to have 
the largest share.” 

Mr. Flood became discouraged, and the state of the 
country was distressing in the extreme. An extravagant 
government had exhausted the treasury, pauperism 
abounded, and in the midst of this, 4000 soldiers were 
voted to go out to America to help England to conquer 
the rebels there. This drew from the 12,000 which were 
stipulated for the defence of Ireland so large a share, that 
she was left exposed to attacks from foreign invaders. 

It has been said that the American Revolution was 
one of the most important eras of the world, because in 
it was involved the interests of so many nations, and 
because it has successfully proved that trade and com¬ 
merce, arts and sciences, literature and religion, move 
more harmoniously under the voice of the people than 
when propelled by a few. The one hundred and thirty 
million sterling which England lost, with her two armies 
and colonies beside, gave great hope to Ireland that they 
might yet shake off the incubus, and be a free people 
too. Great opposition was made against voting an 
army to assist England in her war with America, but 
the men were sent. The Americans were emancipated, 
and Ireland rejoiced. But before she had achieved her 
independence, an embargo was laid on the exports of 
provisions from Ireland, and the American war stopped 
the trade in Irish linens in that country. Distress was 
again seen in Dublin, by black flags, denoting that trade 
was stopped, and great suffering prevailed. When 
the news reached England that America had declared 


OF IRELAND. 


115 


her “ Independence,” the penal laws were a little soft¬ 
ened. The fugitive Irish in America had stood nobly 
in defence of the country which had given her an asylum, 
and this had greatly attached the Irish at home to that 
country. They felt that the interests of both nations 
were, in a measure, mutual, as their condition had been 
somewhat similar ; and if the state of Ireland was not a 
little bettered soon, she might be strengthened by her 
transatlantic brethren to make a desperate effort for 
her own emancipation. All this, doubtless, flung into 
the scale, produced that famous “ Popish Relief Bill,” 
passed in 1778. By this, catholics could take leases for 
lives or for 199 years, and could purchase lands, with a 
few restrictions, on condition of taking the oath of alle¬ 
giance. The catholics associated again under a leader, 
who was inefficient; and they were startled by a new 
association springing up by the protestants in the north. 
These noble-minded liberals, looking with pain upon the 
sad state of the country, determined to merge all minor 
differences of opinion into one common interest for the 
great good of all. Government was nearly palsied. 
The Irish landlords were in a sad dilemma ; the lord- 
lieutenant stopped payment, and all the wheels which 
moved grants, pensions, barrack and ordnance payments, 
&c., ceased their motion. England could spare them 
nothing; her own debt was enormous, and she could 
neither help or oppose Ireland effectually, had she been 
disposed. Ireland applied for the removal of restrictions 
on trade, but she was not heard. Lancashire remon¬ 
strated that Irish trade would ruin her, and the request 
was waived by granting the Irish leave to export all 
her manufactures to the plantations but her woollens; 
and though this grant was of no use to them, as woollen 
was their great commodity, yet British merchants were 
much disturbed at this condescension. 

Matters were turning dark in England ; she wanted 
an army of 20,000 soldiers, and could not muster more 
than 5,000. Spain and Holland had joined France in 
declaring war. The American war had exhausted the 
British treasury, and now the protestants arose to defend 


116 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


Ireland. They saw the storm, and determined to avert 
it, and defend their country against a common enemy. 
Ireland would he the most favourable mark for an onset 
by France, and she put herself in a posture of defence. 
Belfast began the movement by providing what she 
could to defend herself, and then applied to government : 
she could give them sixty troopers. Never was there 
a more noble, disinterested movement; every man, pro- 
testant or catholic, was at his post. “Volunteers” was 
the appropriate appellation of these self-moved patriots ; 
for, like Deborah’s army, they offered themselves will¬ 
ingly. The catholics, who, by a statute, were not 
allowed to carry arms, yet they aided, by their money 
and counsels, in raising volunteers. The catholics of 
Limerick alone subscribed £800. to raise men for the 
national defence, though they would not be allowed to 
mingle in the ranks. Drogheda and Dingle did their 
utmost, as well as many other places, till the number 
swelled, in a year or a little more, to forty-two thousand 
men. Government was alarmed, but could do nothing ; 
opposition might turn these armed men upon them, and 
an attempt to connect them with government failed. 
An offer was made of temporary officers, only to be used 
in time of need; this they refused, choosing officers 
whom they knew. Various uniforms were put on, some 
green, some white, some scarlet, and others blue. They 
grew into an army, of regiments and brigades, till pro- 
testant and catholic were one united body of valiant 
soldiers ; and if war were not a most reprehensible evil, 
this body of patriots would have deserved the highest 
honours. They were, indeed, a most noble body of men 
as ever combined for an ignoble purpose. 

The Duke of Leinster, Earl of Clanricarde, and Lord 
Charlemont, were not ashamed to be ranked among them, 
as well as many others of the nobility. The moral gran¬ 
deur of the whole was, that all equipped themselves ; a 
general purse was established ; there was no bribe, no in¬ 
ducement but love of liberty and country. And in these 
was centred the true greatness of the whole. These 
volunteers increased as the danger seemed to threaten, 


OF IRELAND. 


117 


till they were obliged to apply to government for arms. 
20,000 stand of arms were handed out from the castle of 
Dublin. They now had accomplished their wishes, in 
getting a supply of arms—and the priests chose officers ; 
all worked without pay, and subordination was complete 
without military law. A higher law than force governed 
these men, a law of love, a law of honour; and when 
the soldiers returned from the American war, they were 
hailed with the greatest enthusiasm, and their experience 
was of great use in teaching the volunteers the discipline 
of troops and armies. 

It is pleasant to dwell on the principles which were 
embodied in these volunteers ; they were principles of 
instinct; they had never seen the example of impartial 
justice, unrestrained freedom, or love to men, any farther 
than party-interests. And here the two antipodes who 
hated each other from duty, and killed each other in 
obedience to what they called religion, were now without 
coercion, without bribery, all simultaneously rallying 
round one standard, to accomplish one great object— jus¬ 
tice, and the good of all. Well might the historian say, 
“ It was one of the most purely democratic bodies which 
the world has ever witnessed.” How pleasant to dwell 
on these few short days, when that stricken country had 
made such rapid strides towards that goal which she so 
much desired to reach, and which she so richly merited. 

France, it appears, did not invade the coast; and when 
this well-organised body had found herself in readiness, 
she turned her attention to looking into the causes of 
the miseries under which the country groaned. Manu¬ 
factures were what they wanted, and they resolved at 
once to adopt the advice of Swift, and refuse to purchase 
goods of English manufacture, and besides, to refuse 
trading with & those merchants who dealt in them. A 
public^ meeting held at Dublin, by the high sheriffs, 
adopted this resolution :— 

u That we will not from the date hereof, until the 
grievances of this country shall be removed, directly or 
fndirectly, import or consume any of the manufactures 
of Great Britain ; nor will we deal with any merchant or 
shopkeeper who shall import such manufactures,” &c. 


118 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


This was recommended to all the country who regarded 
the commerce of Ireland. This was obeyed ; and a writer 
observes, that the happiest change took place in habits; 
there was no violence, no religious bigotry taunting an 
opponent; each sat under his own vine and fig-tree ; and 
none made him afraid. Smiles beautifully expresses it : 
“ The poor oppressed catholic now dreamt of deliverance, 
and was satisfied ; the famished beggar looked up from 
his crust moistened with tears, and hoped.” The wide 
distinction of rank was so removed, that the “ volunteer 
private could sit at the same board with the volunteer 
general/’ and order and quiet reigned universally; and 
that island of natural beauties had her civil and moral 
ones, such as she had never seen since the days that 
their patron St. Patrick had blessed it with his faith. 
There was no need of “ White-boys,” or “ Oak-boys,” and 
the Rapparees too, the most fearful and dreaded of all, 
were now quiet. 

These Rapparees deserve a name in the history of that 
devoted country, for they were the terror of all the bad, 
and the good sometimes were made to tremble by these 
desperadoes. They originated among the Connaught 
exiles, who, driven from their own hearths, determined 
to revenge by robbery and murder, whenever robbery and 
murder was convenient. They were armed with a kind 
of half-pike, and hid in the fastnesses of mountains ; often 
without houses, and like the beasts of prey, they prowled 
at midnight upon defenceless inhabitants, destroying 
their property; and when detected, they sometimes 
disappeared so mysteriously, that the superstitious 
imagined that they had communication with the infernal 
regions; and when pursued, they entered by some unseen 
passage into the earth, to the dark abodes below. One 
of them had been committing depredations, and when 
hunted he suddenly disappeared in a bog, when lo ! he 
was found safely sunk in the quagmire up to his chin, he 
was pulled out and hanged immediately. But now these 
dark gentry had either all gone down to the lower regions, 
or they had become safe inhabitants of the upper. 


OF IRELAND. 


119 


CHAPTER VIII. 

“ A little sun, a little rain, 

And then night sweeps along the plain, 

And all things fade away.” 

Ireland seemed now to be looking beyond tbe dark 
cloud that overshadowed her head, and feeling that she 
should yet stand forth in her own national strength, and 
again rejoice in that freedom which was hers, when no 
foreign foot had trampled her soil to enslave it. October 
1779, was the eventful opening of a parliament, when 
assembled men of sterling principle, whose gigantic 
minds grasped at once that liberty , that equality, that 
justice, which are instincts in the soul of every man, and 
which every man should boldly claim. 

Daly, Forbes, Flood, Burgh, Yelverton, Bushe, Pery, 
and Grattan, were there. Yes, the noble Grattan, whose 
influence had been felt in that parliament since 1775, 
and who now came forth robed with new dignity, hal¬ 
lowed that assembly, and gave to it a tone which nothing 
but true greatness could do. The electric spark which 
had been kindled throughout the country he fanned 
brighter; and his country, sunk and degraded as she 
was, knew and appreciated him; and she appreciates 
him still. Now, in the desolate chambers of that once 
proud “Linen Hall,” in Dublin, he stands, pointing to 
the ruins that encircle him, while his weeping country¬ 
men, as they show him to the stranger, say, “ 0, that we 
had him now ! ” 

Henry Flood had stood long in that parliament, and 
his logical powers were said to be masterly. Opposition 
armed him at once cap-a-pie with the whole panoply of 
argument; and his presence of mind never failed him. 
Yet he had been so long conversant with the intrigues, 
the vascillations, and waverings of political life, that he 
had become, as Barrington says, “sceptical.'’ His wis¬ 
dom made him so, and he sometimes doubted, from a 


120 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


shrewd discernment of human nature, which the purity 
of Grattan’s own mind, never allowed him to do. 

Burgh was a little differently moulded from either of 
the preceding. He was a speaker of great brilliancy, 
his manners of the highest polish, and to sum him up, 
Mr. Flood has graphically said, “ He did not live to be 
ennobled by patent—he was ennobled by nature/’ 

Barry Yelverton was distinguished for oratory, nice 
taste, and strong understanding, bold and vehement; 
but alas ! he debased his noble powers by selling his 
country at last. 

Pery was an experienced patriot, had been an effi¬ 
cient member of parliament since 1751 ; he did much 
for his country, when opportunity allowed him, and was 
always found on the right side tvhen the question was 
doubtful. Freedom of trade, corn-laws, tenantry bill, tithe 
bill, and independence of the Irish parliament, always had 
from him a strong support. The crowning of his whole 
character was, his historian says, “ There was not a par¬ 
ticle of deceit in his whole constitution.” Would that 
this could be said of all the men of talent that appeared 
on the stage at that important era. John Fitzgibbon was 
one of Ireland’s bold patriots, when she was rising; but 
he basely trampled her under foot when his own fortunes 
demanded it, and when she most needed his aid. 

Dennis Daly was a most strenuous advocate of freedom 
in trade, in religion, and in politics ; and was always on 
the side of the oppressed. Noble, praiseworthy trait! 

Parker Bushe was morally great, and strongly opposed 
to the American war, though he held office under go¬ 
vernment. 

John Forbes contended powerfully against all that 
opposed the welfare of his country, and was a man of 
strong and active talent. 

Haly Hutchin, should not be forgotten, as a strong 
advocate for liberty, though a great office-seeker. 

These are not all the noble-minded patriots who sat 
in that house, October 1779 ; nor were these spirits idle, 
and well is it known that the important subjects then 
discussed, carried weight beyond that house. “ Free trade ’’ 


OF IRELAND. 


121 


was the subject. “ Free trade” was granted; but coming 
so tardily, and with such humiliating extortions, they 
proved quite unsatisfactory, being resumable at pleasure 
by the English parliament. Independence , entire inde¬ 
pendence, was the unanimous demand. A speech from 
Burgh, as pithy as it was effective, produced the most 
thrilling, if not alarming effects. “ Talk not to me,” 
said he, “ of peace ; Ireland is not in a state of peace, it 
is smothered war. England has sown her laws like 
dragon's teeth , and they have sprung up hi armed men." 
Never, never was a clearer, juster figure than this; and 
though scattered among 42,000 armed volunteers, like 
arrows, and at such a crisis too, yet it could not be un¬ 
said ; and its fearful echo is now on every breeze—the 
houseless, homeless outcast, on mountain and in glen, 
by the highways and ditches, are the living the dying 
mementos of these piercing “dragon-teeth.” 

Grattan now arose in all his moral strength, to move 
for a declaration of Irish rights : he met opposition, 
many deserted him, and he was defeated; but though 
he fell, he “ fell in his robes,” for the discussion, though 
lost in the house, had full and free course outside the 
walls. They had no mutiny bill, and denying the force 
of the British law, the disarmament of the militia might 
at any time take place; and when the bill which was 
read and carried in the Irish parliament, was returned 
from England,-a clause was added, rendering it perpetual. 
This was a dreadful blow, the dragon-teeth were watered 
again, and the people were roused ; councils were held, 
the volunteers awakened to new life, reviews were now 
common, all classes witnessed these well-disciplined 
bodies with the deepest interest; ladies plied the 
needle, embroidered colours, and presented them to the 
different companies. These companies, though they had 
been moving in perfect harmony, self-governed, yet now 
resolved to choose leaders, and the Duke of Leinster was 
elected with great pomp, as general-in-chief over that 
province ; the other provinces followed the example, 
and the Earl of Charlemont was elected as commander- 
in-chief of the whole. 


1 22 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


He was not fitted wholly for so great a work, his 
domestic virtues were more brilliant than his public 
ones; small things disturbed him, and he lacked deci¬ 
sion. His appointment to office was followed with great 
and grand reviews ; at the north, Belfast w r as the most 
complete, 60,000 spectators were present, and Lord 
Camden on reviewing it said, “ Keep it up, keep it up, 
for depend upon it, England will never forgive you.” 

The volunteers felt that as parliament had refused to 
grant a declaration of rights, they must know the mind 
of the nation, and delegates from all the corps were 
elected, met, passed resolutions and published them. A 
great meeting was held at Dungannon, when two hun¬ 
dred and forty-two men, delegates from twenty-five 
thousand of armed volunteers, assembled in the church 
of that place, dressed in the various uniforms of their 
respective regiments ; and such was the solemnity and 
stillness of that assembly for some time, that “ many 
were softened into tears.” The resolutions then psased, 
were proposed by Mr. Grattan, Mr. Flood, and Lord 
Charlemont. 

These resolutions are too numerous to be embodied 
here—but they are such as a Grattan and Flood could 
embody, which reflects honour on them as lovers of 
liberty and country; and such as, if they had been 
adopted by England, and carried forward, would, long 
before now, have wiped the foul blot of Ireland’s wrongs 
from her escutcheon, and which aroused all parties to 
renewed exertions. 

The Bishop of Derry, an Englishman and English 
peer, was at the head of a party to throw off the English 
yoke, and urged the volunteers forward, while there 
was no power to resist them. They were now strong, 
united, disciplined, and England was in trouble with 
Cornw'allis ; they, therefore, had every thing to hope. 
This bold man was opposed by Lord Charlemont and the 
whigs, and every energetic movement discountenanced. 
England now felt that these “ rebellious Irish” w r ould 
slip from their grasp, if new sops were not sent over ; 
and the Duke of Portland was prepared, at the open- 


OF IRELAND. 


123 


ing- of the House of Commons, to apply the soothing 
opiates as soon as the declaration of rights should be 
presented. The volunteers made imposing sights in 
different parts of the city, but no riot and no noise was 
heard. Grattan entered, when after a little pause, the 
lord-lieutenant said—(and ye who are politicians and 
parliament men hear , for who can better understand than 
you, the zigzag windings,the secret connivings, the empty 
blusterings, and the nameless intriguings of men in 
office, men in power, and men who love office and love 
power, when this their blessed “ craft is in danger :”)— 

“ His Majesty, being concerned to find that discon¬ 
tents and jealousies were prevailing amongst his loyal 
subjects of Ireland, upon matters of great weight and 
importance, recommended the house, to take the same into 
their most serious consideration, in order to effect such a 
final adjustment as might give satisfaction to both king¬ 
doms.” 

This was followed by Huchinson and Ponsonby, who 
praised the king, and ended by assuring him, that his 
faithful subjects would act in accordance to his wishes. 
This declaration changed the face of things. And now 
Grattan arose, and in the might of that moral strength 
which carries all before it, he made a speech, which 
stands as one of the most finished specimens of oratory 
and patriotism, that was ever made in any house of par¬ 
liament ; his generous, and too confiding heart, disco¬ 
vered in this message nothing but love for Ireland, and 
he told his hoping, deceived hearers, that they were now 
a free people, and that that this was the first joyful 
moment for ages that this happy title could be claimed. 
“ Ireland, he added, is now a nation ! ” He then invoked 
the spirits of Swift and Molyneux, and said, “ Your 
genius has prevailed! Estopeiyetua.” Thanks were now 
returned to his Majesty, with the warmest testimonies 
of attachment to his government, that while they will¬ 
ingly acknowledged that they are annexed to the British 
crown, yet they claimed a parliament of their ow r n, and 
to be the sole legislator thereof. This they claimed as 
a birthright, and “ which we cannot yield but with our 

g 2 


124 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


lives.” The house was carried away with this speech of 
Grattan’s, and many that had doubted were now con¬ 
ciliated. One in that assembly saw through a different 
medium, he had seen sudden revolutions before, and 
throughout the whole he continued silent—he saw the 
hollowness of the entire machinery, and the people at 
last saw that Ireland had no guarantee for her liberties, 
but only kind wishes and good intentions. But the 
sound had gone forth, the whole nation caught the en¬ 
thusiasm, and assembled in different counties to rejoice 
together, and pledge themselves to one another and their 
country, and the hitherto enslaved catholics now pre¬ 
sented an address to the Duke of Portland, couched in 
this humiliating language : that they felt the most 
sincere gratitude, that they were “ alloived to have a 
home in their native land, hoping that his grace would 
represent them to his majesty as a body of people 
capable of returning gratitude for benefits, and not 
unworthy of his royal protection and favour.” 

Politicians can better understand the deep policy of 
the Duke of Portland, by reading from a note sent to 
Fox, when he there declared that conciliatory language 
better suited the present exigencies, and that through 
these influential gentlemen thus appeased, something in 
future more favourable to England might be achieved. 

One hundred thousand pounds were voted to Grattan 
for his services, and was received with great acclamation 
by the people in general; but his friends requested that 
but fifty thousand should be granted. Parliament now 
finished her work, by introducing bills to repeal the 6th 
of George I., which declared the supremacy of England, 
and the dependency of Ireland on the crown of Great 
Britain, to repeal the perpetual Mutiny Bill, to secure 
the freedom of election, and the independence of the 
judges. The work was now thought to be complete, and 
the revolution of 1782 triumphant. 

Upon these hopes, sandy as they w T ere, the sanguine 
Irish began to build anew their nation, and applied 
themselves steadily and effectually to merchandise, 
manufacture, and agriculture, beside making Dublin, 


OF IRELAND. 


125 


by her rich and tasteful architecture, one of the hand¬ 
somest cities in the kingdom. 

The discerning Flood saw symptoms that all was not 
safe, and that Ireland was still in the grasp of a ministry 
that would eventually crush her hopes, and brought 
forward a bill to make all her laws, external and in¬ 
ternal, independent of all foreign power. This move¬ 
ment startled the hitherto satisfied Grattan, and great 
opposition followed, which ended in little else than 
arousing the volunteers to new action, and to demand a 
thorough 'parliamentary reform . 

It has ever been the case in Ireland, that the Irish 
members in the house of the English parliament have, 
many of them, opposed the best interests of their 
country, either from selfish motives, or from a cringing 
servility to the English government. The Irish Secre¬ 
tary in the British House of Commons declared that the 
king himself could not relinquish the inherent right of 
the British legislature to legislate for Ireland. Lord 
Abingdon seconded this declaration in the House of 
Lords, and moved to introduce a bill to re-assert the 
rights of England to legislate externally in the concerns 
of Ireland. 

The volunteers, hearing this, beat to arms, and col¬ 
lected 120,000 men. The British government again 
talked of conciliation, and actually passed a bill re¬ 
nouncing in toto all future right to legislate for Ireland. 
Now this sunshine was eclipsed by their own corrupt 
parliament; and the volunteers, encouraged by the Duke 
of Bickmond, Mr. Fox, Pitt, and many others of influ¬ 
ence, determined that strenuous efforts should be made to 
correct those abuses which the parliament was inflicting, 
and would further inflict, if not checked immediately. 

A convention was held in Ulster, at Lisburn, by the 
volunteer delegates, and an address, signed by Lieu¬ 
tenant-Colonel Sharman, and another at Dungannon, to 
decide upon the best means of effecting their purpose ; and 
here they resolved to correspond throughout the country 
on the subject, to send five delegates to Dublin, and 
apply to Lord Charlemont for his opinion. A national 


126 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


convention was appointed on the 10th of November 
for the purpose, and the answer of Lord Charlemont 
so disappointed these liberal-minded men, that discus¬ 
sion after discussion took place, and when the 10th of 
November arrived, 300 delegates, representatives of 
150,000 armed men, and men of influence, were escorted 
to Dublin by small detachments of volunteers, and the 
sight was one of the most imposing that the city had 
ever witnessed. 

Whoever has visited Dublin, must have seen the 
Rotunda, proudly standing at the head of the noble 
Sackville Street; and here the delegates, headed by 
Lord Charlemont, and guarded by a strong body of 
horse, assembled. Twenty-one guns were fired, and the 
members, with broad green ribbons across their shoulders, 
walked two-and-two, and the volunteer battalions fol¬ 
lowed with national banners and mottoes ; and the clergy, 
in “ full canonicals,” attended each regiment, w'hile the 
bands of music played the “volunteers’ marchand 
labels were affixed to the mouths of the cannons belong¬ 
ing to one brigade, on which was written, “ Oh Lord , 
open thou our lips , and we will sound forth thy praise .” 

This was a singular motto on the mouth of a cannon, 
whether construed as an “ Irish blunder” or a happy 
mode of praising God through the instrument of death. 
But war and death were not the objects of this assembly; 
it was a grand , a noble, a moral struggle, for those rights 
which man should possess in common with his fellow- 
man. That music was not to drown the groans of the 
wounded, it w r as not to stimulate bloody warriors to 
fiercer combat, but to kindle still brighter the flame of 
liberty burning in their breasts ; and well might the 
enthusiastic multitude, from the house-tops and windows, 
throw green ribands and wave handkerchiefs, as this well- 
disciplined army passed on to the place of conclave. 

History states that so deep was the feeling, that a 
stillness prevailed through the whole march by the crowd 
as well as by the procession. But w r hen the artillery 
gave notice that the delegates had entered the Rotunda, 
an acclamation long and loud rolled upon the ear, till 


OF IRELAND. 


127 


burst after burst of feeling rent the air with renewed 
enthusiasm. Ah, they hoped, they thought liberty was 
achieved, and this joyful song was a token of their glad¬ 
ness. But listen! Lord Charlemont was there, the nominal 
friend of Irish freedom, but the real tool to accomplish 
its ruin. His own words were, “ I had, upon mature 
deliberation, determined that, to render the assembly as 
respectable as possible was the next best mode to the 
entire prevention of it.” The Earl of Bristol, too, was 
there; his entrance into the city was in an open car¬ 
riage, drawn by six beautiful horses. Several carriages 
were in his suite, and his dress, which was purple, to¬ 
gether with that of the liveries of his servants, made a 
most picturesque display. 

Robert Fitzgerald, his nephew, had raised a cavalry 
which were splendidly dressed, and mounted on the finest 
chargers; and when this procession presented itself at the 
portico of the House of Lords, and sounded their trumpets, 
which echoed through the long halls of that spacious 
building, the astonished members of both houses hastened 
to the door. The sight of the Earl, with his dignified 
salute, and the company which attended him, was im¬ 
posing, while the band played the volunteers’ march, and 
the volunteers presented arms, and then amid the accla¬ 
mations of the multitude they moved on towards the 
Rotunda. The Earl entered and took his seat with the 
convention, with motives totally averse to his rival, Lord 
Charlemont. His eye was single to the good of Ireland, 
his heart free from intolerance, and he determined to 
exert his influence for the emancipation of the catholics. 
But alas ! Lord Charlemont took the presidency, and 
the deliberation of parliamentary reform went on. Lord 
Charlemont vascillated; Flood and the Earl of Bristol 
obtained a preponderance; a bill of reform was pre¬ 
pared and sent the House of Commons by the conven¬ 
tion. This bill embodied the rights of the catholics, 
in despite of George Ogle, who had stated that the 
catholics were quite satisfied with the liberties granted 
them without demanding the elective franchise. The 
catholics replied, “ that we do not so widely differ from 


128 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


the rest of mankind, as by our own act to prevent the 
removal of our shackles/’ When the great body, dressed 
in uniform, presented themselves in the House of Com¬ 
mons, the confusion was great. The Bill of Reform was 
presented by Mr. Flood, accompanied with forcible lan¬ 
guage, demanding if they would or would not accept it 
from us your members. A tumultuous scene followed. 
Some of the members, who had been decided volunteers, 
deserted and turned to the government. Fitzgibbon and 
Yelverton were among the number, who declared, that 
it was inconsistent with the dignity of the house to 
receive a bill from “ armed demagogues.” Curran 
severely rebuked these dissensions, the scene from de¬ 
bate proceeded to clamour, and the bustle continued 
till morning, when Mr. Flood saw his motion over¬ 
powered by a majority of 154 to 49. Parliament now 
resolved to maintain its privileges against all encroach¬ 
ments whatever, and sent up an address to the king, 
testifying their entire satisfaction and loyalty; and thus 
ended the parliamentary reform. 

LordCharlemont remained in the Rotunda, while Flood 
and his delegates were presenting the bill, but growing 
impatient, he moved for an adjournment to the Monday 
following :—they adjourned and never met. The mem¬ 
bers who assembled on Monday found the doors closed, 
and that the lord had duped and deserted them. 

They were dismayed, disappointed, and in many places 
beat to arms, but finally were scattered and dissolved. 
Grattan, who had thought all secure, was startled, and 
found too late that his dream of bliss was a false one; 
that he had looked quietly indifferent while the volunteers 
were acting, thinking that liberty was already achieved. 

The association was dissolved or suppressed by govern¬ 
ment, and Dr. Madden states that the error of the 
leaders was, thinking to retain the confidence of the 
catholics, while they denied them their rights. Grattan 
now saw the corruption of parliament, and most boldly 
denounced its proceedings. He charged them with 
bribery, with selling peerages, and challenged them to 
deny it. “ We do not affect to treat them as other than 


OF IRELAND. 


129 


public malefactors. We pronounce them public criminals 
—will they dare to deny it.” They did not deny it. 

During the administration of Westmoreland, the Place 
Bill was carried, and through this, Pitt, it is said, was 
enabled to bring about that hated union, which, like a 
contending man and wife, 

“ United jar, yet loth to part.” 


CHAPTER IX. 

u Surely oppression maketh a wise man mad.” 

Again the catholics began to feel that they should have 
a place somewhere in their country; and though they 
had been told that they should be satisfied, yet they 
did not see cause to be so. Their body was numerous 
and many were wealthy, they had tasted enough of 
partial liberty for a few years to find it palatable, and 
determined to struggle for more; and they had some 
efficient and intelligent men. And in 1791, they re¬ 
solved to petition parliament, if they could find one in 
their body to present it. Among four millions they had 
not a representative. At length, a Dublin merchant, by 
the name of Keogh, called together a select committee, 
and pressed them to send one of their number. He was 
chosen. Bold and coarse, full of true patriotism, and 
possessing sterling sense, united to a happy facility of 
winning opposite opinions to his own, he was the more 
fitted for the exigencies of the time. He went forth, 
another opiate was given. England was fearing the 
French Revolution, and in 1792 a partial reliel was 
granted to the catholics, the legal profession was thrown 
open, protestants and catholics were allowed to inter¬ 
marry, and catholic education was a little more tolerated. 
And now, as we are on the precincts of the rebellion ot 



130 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


’98, it may be well to see what catholic privileges were, 
a few years before. 

When they had succeeded in gaining these minor 
privileges, they resolved to lay their entire grievances 
before the government, and demand redress.—“ Behold 
us before you,” they said, “ four millions of the people 
of Ireland, subjects of the same king, inhabitants of 
the same land, bound together by the same social con¬ 
tract, good and loyal subjects to his majesty, his crown 
and government, yet doomed to one unqualified inca¬ 
pacity—to a universal civil proscription. We are ex¬ 
cluded from the state, we are excluded from the revenues, 
we are excluded from every distinction, every privilege, 
every office, every emolument, every civil trust, every 
corporate right. We are excluded from the navy, from 
the army, from the magistracy, from the professions. 
We are excluded from the palladium of life, liberty and 
property—the juries and inquests of our country. From 
what are we not excluded ? We are excluded from the 
constitution. 

“We most humbly and earnestly supplicate and im¬ 
plore parliament to call this law of universal exclusion 
to a severe account; and now at least to demand of it 
upon what principle it stands, of equity, of morality, of 
justice, or of policy. We demand the severest scrutiny 
into our principles, our actions, our words, and our 
thoughts. Where is that people who, like us, can offer 
the testimony of a hundred years’ patient submission to 
a code of laws, of which no man living is now an advo¬ 
cate, without sedition, without murmur, without com¬ 
plaint. Our loyalty has undergone a century of severe 
persecution for the sake of our religion, and we have 
come out of the ordeal with our religion and with our 
loyalty. Why then are we still left under the ban of 
our country.” 

This appeal was not in vain. These scattered frag¬ 
ments of wrongs and suffering, had never before been 
gathered and embodied in one mass, and presented to 
view at one time, and new impulses were revived. The 
protestants of the north were not quiet, a parliamentary 


OF IRELAND. 


131 


reform they wanted, and were forming committees which 
swelled into companies, till the fearful body of United 
Irishmen were formed. The catholics, as they saw that 
justice long delayed, began to draw towards these 
directors of the United Irishman, and both were looking 
to the French for aid if needed. The protestants who 
belonged to the United Irishmen were for complete 
catholic emancipation. 

Another class, called the Defenders, sprung up from 
the oppressed catholic peasantry; these having no law 
were a law to themselves, and they united to defend 
themselves. All this looked a little startling, if not 
seditious; and to quiet all a message was sent through 
the Duchess of Buckingham, that government was very 
anxious to lighten the penal laws. She was a catholic, 
and this intimation was given to the higher order of 
catholics. The catholics immediately forwarded a peti¬ 
tion, which was at once rejected, as a step towards reli¬ 
gious supremacy. A relief bill was introduced and 
rejected by the protestant gentry, as most dangerous; 
but Pitt succeeded in gaining it at last, and by this bill 
the catholics obtained the elective franchise, though they 
were not allowed a seat in parliament; subordinate rights 
they might exercise, and the landlords determined to 
use this right of franchise for their own profit, by their 
tenants, in turning their votes to their own advantage. 

This tolerant relief bill was followed by intolerance; 
the people were prohibited assembling to draw petitions 
for redress of grievances, arbitrary fines were imposed 
on editors of newspapers, &c. Westmoreland was called 
home, and Lord Fitzwilliam sent, as viceroy. He was 
a lenient landlord, owning great possessions in Ireland, 
and he set himself in earnest to correct the abuses of 
public funds, persecution of catholics, &c. He chose 
what instruments he pleased to carry out his plans, cast 
out men who were rich and powerful from lucrative 
stations where they had been unjust; and so thorough 
was his work, that he was called back, and Lord Camden 
substituted. The people were enraged, riots and sedi¬ 
tions every where multiplied. Camden could not appear 


132 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


abroad without a guard. The United Irishmen gathered 
strength, and all was fast approaching that fearful rebel¬ 
lion of J 98, the scenes of which many now live to relate. 

Though the volunteers were nominally dead, yet vir¬ 
tually they lived and moved in the United Irishmen, 
who having seen their order and machinery, had taken 
lessons of vital importance. The French Revolution had 
infused fresh ardour into the Ulster presbyterians who 
first formed that band, the principles of which may be 
better known, by using the words of Theobalde Wolfe 
Tone, only at that time twenty-eight years old. He 
formed the society for this purpose—“ To subvert the 
tyranny of our execrable government, to break the con¬ 
nexion with England, the never-failing source of our 
political evils, and to assert the independence of my 
country; these were my objects. To unite the whole 
people of Ireland, to abolish the memory of all past dis¬ 
sensions, and to substitute the common name of Irish¬ 
men, in place of the denominations of protestant, catholic, 
and dissenter. Their first meeting was held in Belfast, 
and their resolutions were such as no freeman would be 
ashamed to avow.” 

1st. “ That the weight of English influence in the 
government of this country is so great as to require a 
cordial union among all the people of Ireland, to main¬ 
tain that balance which is essential to the preservation 
of our liberties, and the extension of our commerce. 

2nd. “ That the sole constitutional mode by which 
this influence can be opposed, is by a complete and 
radical reform of the representation of the people in 
parliament. 

3rd. “That no reform is just which does not include 
Irishmen of every religious persuasion.” 

With these noble resolutions the society proceeded 
forward, with Tone for their leader; a paper called the 
Northern Star , was commenced at Belfast—one called the 
Evening Star, was issued at Dublin. * 

The catholics had not joined the United Irishmen, 
nor did they consent to do so till the northern protes- 
tants had, as they supposed, matured their plans. 


OF ICELAND. 


133 


The leaders in this movement were—Tone, Emmett, 
Russell, Lord Fitzgerald, and many other prominent men, 
who were all protestants. Tone had attempted to arouse 
the catholics, by a pamphlet which he published, in 
which he shewed that the sad state of Ireland could 
never be remedied till there was a kindlier feeling be¬ 
tween the two parties—that they had one common cause, 
the good of their country, and this cause could never be 
effected but by a common union. Parliamentary reform 
was what they needed, and this could never be effected 
while the country was divided. The dissenters and 
catholics at last were unanimous, the relief bill was thus 
gained, and the catholics again ceased all effort. Govern¬ 
ment having pacified this party, undertook to suppress 
the movements at the north. The people were disarmed, 
the standing army increased ; while the gentry, magis¬ 
trates, and clergy of the established church, encouraged 
the government. A secret committee was established, and 
from this issued the most fearful deeds of cruelty; hired 
witnesses multiplied, juries were packed, and soldiers 
were quartered upon the pretended disaffected districts; 
committing all manner of wickedness, provoking the 
inhabitants to insurrection ; till finally, the whole coun¬ 
try was in a ferment. Some of the United Irishmen 
were arrested, and in 1794 they were tried; and it 
was on that occasion that Curran delivered the un¬ 
paralleled speech that lias been the admiration of the 
civilised world. 

It was in ’97 that the United Irishmen were dispersed 
from their place of meeting, Tailors’ Hall, in Black 
Lane, Dublin, by order of government, and their papers 
seized, and they forbidden to meet any more. 

Secret societies now sprung up, and these United 
Irishmen concocted a system more efficient and deter¬ 
mined. Parliamentary reform and catholic emancipa¬ 
tion merged their names in democracy, or “ the full repre¬ 
sentation of the people of Ireland.” These societies well 
understood each other, and were so skilfully managed, 
that orders could be transmitted without risk through 
all the grades of the organization, by a short notice. 


134 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


These societies, which at first were civil, changed into 
military detachments when needed; and in proportion 
as government became coercive, they became desperate. 
The oath which bound them it has been called a capital 
offence to take, and, as a specimen of the justness of their 
motive and the principles of government, it is well that 
it has been preserved. It is—“ I, A. B., in the presence 
of God, do pledge myself to my country, that I will use 
all my abilities and influence in the attainment of an 
impartial and adequate representation of the Irish 
nation in parliament, and as a means of absolute and 
immediate necessity in the establishment of the chief 
good in Ireland, and will endeavour, as much as lies in 
my ability, to forward a brotherhood of affection, an 
identity of interests, a communion of rights, and an 
union of power, among Irishmen of all religious persua¬ 
sions, without which every reform in parliament must 
be partial , not national , inadequate to the wants, delu¬ 
sive to the wishes, and inefficient to the freedom and 
happiness of the country.” 

Emmet, when employed to defend a case of one who 
had taken the oath, after faithfully reasoning for his 
client, concluded by—“My lords, here in the presence 
of this royal court, this crowded auditory—in the pre¬ 
sence of that Being that sees, and witnesses, and directs 
this judicial tribunal— here , my lords, I myself, in the 
presence of God, declare I take this oath .” He then 
took the book that was on the table, kissed it, and sat 
down. The astonished court was struck mute—there 
was in this act a moral greatness which overpowered 
them. The prisoner was discharged, and Emmet left 
unrebuked. His fate afterwards is well known, and the 
recital of those dreadful scenes of ’98 would be super¬ 
fluous ; living witnesses still, with grey hairs and weep¬ 
ing eyes, rehearse the fiendish scenes that blackened 
those dreadful days. 

Government spies were lurking in every quarter, and 
woe to the United Irishman that had taken the oath. 
All manner of barbarities were inflicted, some of them 
too bad to be written, and which would be incredulous, 


OF IRELAND. 


135 


did not Ireland now possess undeniable evidence, from 
verbal testimony, as well as from the spirit which now 
manifests itself, so far as the improved state of society 
and more lenient laws do not prohibit. The forcible 
cruel gathering of tithes, the spirit of the Orangemen 
which is annually manifested publicly, and above all 
and over all , the turning out whole tenantry into the 
mountains, where not a tree grows to shelter the naked 
heads of old men, women, and children, in the years of 
(1847, 1848, 1849) a terrible famine, are all undying 
testimonies, that tyranny is tyranny in whatever age it 
may reign, and when its power is let loose, its “ tenderest 
mercies” are fearful. The question is now often made 
respecting the famine, “Are not the accounts greatly 
exaggerated ?” The answer is, “ Come and see” One 
look will satisfy that language could not reach the reality 
of cases daily existing there. So of the rebellion. “ I 
can give you no idea,” said an old respectable lady now 
living in Arklow, “ of the horrors of those fearful days.” 
And now the dread of a British soldier among the pea¬ 
santry of Ireland can be compared to nothing but the 
dread of children in the far-west of America to the 
scalpings and fiendish yellings of the war-whoop of the 
savage; and still do they sing the old song of bygone 
days— 

“Ye soldiers of Britain, your merciless doings 

Long long shall the children of Erin deplore.” 

The watchword, “ Free quarters,” gave unbounded 
license to their brutality, and whatever cabin or house 
they entered, their infuriated passions spared neither 
virtue, age, life, or property. And here it should be 
recorded, not only as a rebuke upon the English sol¬ 
diery but as a tribute due to the Irish, that the English 
soldier is celebrated for his wanton plunder and abuse of 
females, while the Irish soldier cares less for plunder, and 
never abuses women. General Abercrombie says, that 
« the army were let loose upon an already tortured and 
desperate population; the huts and houses of suspected 
persons were burned; their families were tortured and 
frequently murdered; and women were often subjected 


136 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


to the outrages of lust and brutal passion. The Orange 
yeomanry and militia especially distinguished themselves 
by their monstrous cruelties. Sir John Moore stated to 
the Lord-Lieutenant, that the presence of the troops was 
necessary more to check the yeomen and protestants 
than the people in general; and these Orangemen were 
made up, as they are mostly, of Scotch and English of 
the north. Gordon also testifies, that the “ Irish soldier 
always conducts himself with honour towards women 
when in his power.” 

Not content with the most dreadful floggings, tying 
the culprits up by the hands in the streets, and as they 
termed it, “ flogging the truth out of them, they flung 
them into carts, stopped under some convenient tree, and 
with the ropes which they always had with them hung 
them up often without the slightest trial, while weeping 
wives, mothers, and sisters, were rending the air with 
their cries. But the torture of torture was the “ pitch- 
cap ! ” This was made of linen, or brown paper, the 
inside lined with pitch and tar, heated, and set on fire, 
and the poor victim, utterly unable to pull it from his 
head, ran in awful terror and suffering, often with the 
brutal soldiers in pursuit pricking him with their 
bayonets and exulting in his torture, till the miserable 
victim ended his sufferings sometimes by plunging into 
the water and drowning himself, where a river or lake 
might be near. Kely remarks, that from the humble 
cot to the stately mansion, no property, no station was 
secure. Multitudes died under the lash, refusing to 
confess or implicate others ; many were strangled, while 
pardon was offered if they would acknowledge; and 
hundreds died rather than implicate an associate. 

“ Here,” said an old woman, pointing to a tree, “ I 
followed my fair boy of seventeen behind the cart, one 
fine mornin’, and when they put the rope to the neck, he 
looked on me and said, ‘ Go home darlin’ mother, ye 
cannot help me, and I die innocent! ’ ” 

Trees were then a convenient gallows to hang rebels 
on, where they were often left swinging in the breeze 
for days and weeks—sometimes taken down and quar- 


OF IRELAND. 


137 


tered. In the pretty town of Castlebar, there are trees 
standing, on which a gentleman now resident informed 
me that multitudes had been swinging to and fro for 
days together. 

Gordon makes a statement of the spirit of the royal¬ 
ists, who, after “ Father Murphy had fallen, cut open 
his breast with an axe, took out his heart, roasted his 
body, and oiled their boots with the grease that dropped 
from it! ” 

The Irishman, too, will resort in a case of extremity, 
while passion is high, to all modes of warfare which will 
best suit his emergency ; but when he sees his victim 
powerless or dead, his temper is cooled, and he stops not 
to roast or cut him in pieces ; and in many cases pro¬ 
nounces a blessing on his “ soul ” as he sees him depart¬ 
ing. But the more persevering Saxon leaves, not his 
work unfinished till every vestige belonging to his enemy 
has received the finishing touch of revenge. 

It should be remarked, that the cruelties before men¬ 
tioned had been practised for a considerable time, before 
a general rising took place, and when the peasantry 
did so, who were called insurgents, the carnage was 
dreadful. Wexford and Wicklow first aroused, and soon 
other counties followed. These peasants w r ere undis¬ 
ciplined, but they had invented the pike, which they 
could shorten or lengthen, to suit their convenience, and 
it proved a most fearful and effectual weapon. They 
rushed pell-mell upon whatever opposed them, and with 
this they subdued the royalists at Oulard, and secured 
the possession of Vinegar Hill. The royalists sent out 
to sue for peace, but the reply was—“ to Wexford, to 
Wexford.” The garrison was soon taken, and the green 
banner of the Irish reared upon the walls. The British 
flying, massacring all, both women and children, that 
fell in their w r ay. 

Gorey was then taken by the insurgents. JNew Boss 
was an important position, and the insurgents, and they 
under General Harvey, with an army of some -0,000 
prepared for an assault ; but the general and his officers 
took quarters with a gentleman whose wine was good 


138 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


and abundant, and the first night was spent in drinking. 
The morning found all in confusion. A battle com¬ 
menced, sometimes they fought hand to hand, and for 
ten hours, till darkness came upon them, when the scen% 
was terrible. The blaze of houses, firing of cannon, 
drunken men, mingled with the dead and dying, and 
the wounded crowding to find shelter, all made a scene 
too horrible for description. Many perished in the 
flames, seventy-five were burned in one house, which the 
royalists fired, and in cold-blood did the garrison kill, 
till exhausted they “ lay down, and slept among their 
slaughtered enemies.” 

About 300 were burned, the garrison lost 300, and 
the insurgents 2,000, most of whom were slain after the 
battle ended. ^ 

The peasantry now attempted Arklow; that well re¬ 
membered battle ended in defeat; and the north, which 
before the rising at Wexford had been inactive, now, 
near Antrim, with M‘Cracken for their leader, answered 
his stirring appeal, by “ Lead us to victory, or to death !” 
M’Cracken at first was successful, a young man of noble 
spirit, and with his “ Spartan band” he struggled on 
till his men were reduced to twenty-eight; he was then 
taken to Belfast, and executed. 

More battles were fought, continual risings at the 
north taking place, sometimes with great success, then 
with defeat. General Lake with a royal army of 20,000 
men, attacked Vinegar Hill; the insurgents had no am¬ 
munition, but with their pikes they fought desperately. 
The women encouraged them, and many fought by the 
side of their husbands and brothers; but a torrent of 
fire at last so poured upon these pikemen, that they gave 
way and fled. Wexford was at length evacuated, and 
the wretched soldiery, under Lake, who were many of 
them Germans, entered the houses, and all manner of 
cruelties were perpetrated. They entered a hospital, 
where the sick insurgents were, and shot them in their 
beds, the wadding of their guns set the beds on fire, and 
thus the house and patients were all consumed together. 
The cruelties practised by burning houses, and abusing 


OF IRELAND. 


139 


women, kept the peasantry in constant alarm, and they 
in return retaliated in acts of horrid cruelty. 

Lord Camden was called home and Cornwallis sent, 
and measures were more conciliatory; negotiations were 
entered into with many of the Irish leaders, who were 
confined in Dublin prison, and a proclamation was made 
to all, that pardon should be granted if they would turn 
to their allegiance. 

Everything seemed hushed, when news arrived that a 
French army had landed at Killala in the county of 
Mayo, they took Killala, marched to Castlebar, where 
they surprised Lake, unawares, but who had 4000 
strong and fourteen pieces of artillery; the French army 
was about 800, and 1000 of the peasantry, and their 
artillery one curricle gun ! When the surprised British 
saw that, while they were defending themselves against 
the musketry in front, small parties were attempting to 
carry their left, the panic seized the whole British army, 
and not understanding orders, in confusion they fled 
helter-skelter, the French getting such horses as they 
could to follow them. 

The Castlebar people now tell you of the “ Race of 
Castlebar ,” when the affrighted British, John Gilpin 
like, ran through the town without looking behind them 
after the French, who came at galloping speed at their 
heels ; nor did they check bridle or spur till they reached 
Tuam, and from thence they fled to Athlone, a distance 
of sixty miles. Here in safety they peeped behind the 
walls of the castle, to catch the approach of the des¬ 
perate French, who had returned to the town and were 
enjoying their racy conquest by balls, songs, and dances. 

Lord Cornwallis routed them, but not till they had 
taken Lord Roden a prisoner; but they at last sur¬ 
rendered, were sent to Dublin, and thence to France. 
The royal troops at Killala, finding little else than de¬ 
fenceless men, and a few women and children, murdered 
at pleasure, and each boasted of his superior skill in 
killing “croppies.” This was an appellation given to all 
opposed to government, which took its rise from the 
French, who wore short hair. These playful soldiers 


140 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


made sport of shooting women and children wherever 
they met them. They erected tribunals at option, and 
hung when and how their pleasure dictated. Lord Corn¬ 
wallis gave the insurgents at last thirty days to surrender 
or be slaughtered. 

N ow another French line appeared on the coast. On 
board the Hoche was Tone, who had, after having been 
banished to America, gone to France to solicit aid, and 
returned with one of their ships, which he commanded, 
and a dreadful action ensued, but not until the whole 
masts and rigging were torn in pieces did they yield. 
Tone was taken, sentenced to be executed, and while the 
soldiers were erecting his gallows, under his window, he 
cut his throat with his penknife ; he lived a few days, 
uttering as his last words, “ What should I wish to live 
for?” All confidence was destroyed among the people, 
so many had proved themselves that few could trust or 
be trusted. Nationality was about to be extinguished, 
and the “Union” effected all that was remaining. 

The whole time of the insurrection, when regular 
battles were fought, was but a little over one month; 
70,000 on both sides were slain, 50,000 insurgents, and 
20,000 of the government; a great part of the former 
were massacred, not falling in battle. 

Ireland certainly ought to be worth something to the 
crown, for she cost it much to acquire. The money 
expended upon spies and informers in the course of this 
rebellion was very great. The standing army in 1798 
cost <£4,000,000, and the whole has been estimated at 
£21,000,000. This poor country, instead of paying off 
this immense debt, is still crying “Give, give!” and 
England by this appendage has got a ragged, tattered, 
besmeared, and hungry child hanging to her skirts, 
whom she will neither relieve nor shake off. “ The black¬ 
guard Union,” which the Irish peasantry call it, has a 
“name to live but is dead.” It resembles much in 
essence a trembling slave, who, dreading the lash of the 
overseer, when he speaks of his owner, he calls him 
“ dear master,” and sometimes, “sweet master.” 

Ireland was never subjected, and well she knows it. 


OF IRELAND. 


141 


She is fastened to England like a tow-boat, ■which serves 
to carry the luggage of the great packet, dragged along 
at the governor’s will, taking the smoke which comes 
from the leader’s chimney, but tasting none of its meats 
that are cooked upon its hearth. 


CHAPTER X. 

“ How can tAvo Avalk together except they be agreed. 1 ’ 

When we find a fellow T -creature in any painful or un¬ 
natural position, the instinctive enquiry always is, “ How 
came you here ?—What is your name ?—Where do you 
live, and have you a father or mother, wife or children V* 
&c. If we find him ragged and dirty, ignorant and 
bigoted, and he tells us he belongs‘to one of the most 
respectable families on the globe ; that his avowed 
parents are rulers of a vast territory ; that they dwell in 
palaces, and ride in chariots, fare sumptuously every 
day, &c., the question then is immediately solved in our 
minds, and w'£ tell him at once, that his statement is 
false, or he has been a disobedient son, and therefore an 
outcast . 

If he tell us again, that he is not a natural born child, 
that he was first kidnapped and then adopted, and that 
this adoption was but covering the manacles with silk, 
that the iron might not be so easily seen, or gall so 
much ; that he has not been alloAved to share in common 
the privileges of children ; that he has been sent into 
the field to feed swine, and not allowed at all times to 
eat sufficient of the husks with which they are fed; 
and when above all he tells you, that because he does 
not always sing in his chains; that when he looks on 
the scanty rags that cover him, and the stinted food that 
feeds him, because he has the sensibility to feel his real 
degradation and petition for redress ; he is then branded 
with the name of “ rebel,” called ungrateful, that he 



142 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


does not fall on his knees and do homage to the cook 
who invented some new spice for the sop, which his 
starving stomach might never have needed had he been 
allowed the use of his own kitchen garden ; we then find 
the question more abstruse, and, if philanthropists, re¬ 
solve, if possible, to seek a true solution. 

Ireland stands out a mathematical problem, which 
neither pupil or teacher of Euclid has ever yet been able 
to solve. Here she is, and there she is, in everybody’s 
dish ; and though everybody may strive to skim her out. 
What then 1 She is there still ; and though she may 
sink to the bottom, and you make her into mince-meat, 
every particle of your mince, like the polypus, contains 
the living germ of the whole animal. You cannot hill 
her, she will not die. Pinch and squeeze her here, starve 
and freeze her there, she makes her way across a sea or 
channel, and some “ Micky or Paddy,” in the shape of 
a fiftieth cousin, takes her in, and she finds a ditch-side, 
or some manure-heap on which to vegetate, and you find 
her shooting up and sprouting out, threatening, like 
Joseph’s “ fruitful vine,” soon to “ run over your wall.” 

She goes to Scotland with her spade, heavy hobs, and 
dirty bag, to dig in some railway, or work in some har¬ 
vest. The Scotchman’s acquisitiveness starts up ; he 
takes a fresh pinch of snuff, puts out his horns, and 
declares, no “ dirty Irishman canna hae ” the labour 
that a “ gude ” Providence has allotted him. Pugna¬ 
cious Paddy responds, “ tisn’t ye that’ll bate me ; and 
won’t I work chaper for the master,—and he’ll give the 
job.” He succeeds, and if the Scotchman demolish his 
temporary mud hut, he sleeps in the ditch, and through 
wind and tempest finishes the job, takes his sovereigns, 
and returns to his bog, or mountain cabin, and shares 
with his waiting family the avails of his labour. He 
goes to some port in America, sits down on the dock, or 
boldly walks into some street in tatters and filth, he in¬ 
quires of every passenger till he finds the cellar or garret 
where Bridget or Maggy lives, who came from the parish 
of K— in Kilrush, or Skibbereen. If you ask him if he 
has any money, “ Not a ha’porth by dad,” will generally 


OF IRELAND. 


143 


be the answer; “ but it’s ye that have the sovereigns, 
and may be ye’ll give me the work in your fine country 
till I fill the fist.” If haply he be a disciple of Father 
Mathew, he is soon in possession of a blue coat and brass 
buttons, and decently clad for church or chapel. He 
takes apartments, carpets his floor, and sends for his 
“ darlin’ Peggy,” and her little ones, across the water ; 
and he is found on days of public festivity among his re¬ 
spectable appearing countrymen of like occupation, in 
the procession, with his green flag and Irish harp, for 
he loves his country still, and is glad to keep in remem¬ 
brance these lively insignias of his national festivities. 

Another comes to England, and asks for employ that 
he may get bread; if the market be full, and he will 
lower the price of the labour, he is told to go back to 
breaking stones, or into the “ union,” where provisions 
are made for all the “poor and lazybut not repulsed, 
he waits, eating little or nothing, and sleeping as no 
human being should sleep, till a little job is procured. 
He earns the “ lucky sovereign,” sews it up in his ragged 
coat and crosses the channel, probably without once eat¬ 
ing, till he reaches the still padlocked door of his cabin, 
for his wife and children have been abroad to beg in his 
absence. Thus, he lives and hopes on, from generation 
to generation, enduring what none other ever did, still 
appended to a wealthy nation, who know him not, and 
hitherto has loved him less. 

But now for the “ Union.” The rebellion was put 
down; now to keep it down was the next undertaking. 
Martial law found work enough, the flood-gates had been 
opened, and forced submission without redress of griev¬ 
ances could not be relied upon. 

The ascendancy were on the government side, because 
to her they owed their lands, and rich livings, and were 
ready at any time to weaken the hands of the oppressed, 
by merging her into the sea of Britain, where she would 
float about, without the power of concentration, as when 
enclosed in her own little waters. 

William Pitt now felt that his wished-for object 
might be gained, and the Union was proposed and re- 


144 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


jected with great indignation. But what of all that ? 
What could not a standing army of 137,000 do, backed 
up, if necessary, by bribes for the people ? A debate 
of twenty-two hours, gave the government a majority 
of one, and the following day defeated it. The most 
talented lawyers were against it, while Mr. Pitt insisted, 
that as Ireland had been so prosperous under her own 
parliament, her prosperity would be trebled under a 
British legislature. 

Bright pictures were drawn of what it would do, 
in reconciling religious jealousies, protecting manufac¬ 
tures, &c. The other side contended, that as her pro¬ 
sperity had been unparalleled, when alone, why should 
she desire to surrender all this, and be lost as an indivi¬ 
dual nation. The eloquent Plunket told the parliament, 
that “ they were appointed to act under the laws, and 
not to make nor alter them, that they could not transfer 
the constitution, any more than a king could transfer 
his crown; they could abdicate it, but it would revert to 
the next in succession. Yourselves you may extinguish , 
but parliament you cannot extinguish. It is enthroned in 
the hearts of the people, it is enshrined in the sanctuary of 
the constitution , it is as immortal as the island which it 
protects. 

Lord Castlereagh gathered all his forces, but was over¬ 
come by a majority of six. The acclamation was great 
by the populace, who drew the speaker’s carriage through 
the streets, and Lord Clare was laughingly pursued by 
the crowd to attach him to it; but he presented them 
his pocket pistol, and they left him. But their enthu¬ 
siasm was but a prelude to the sad disappointment that 
awaited them. 

The titled aristocracy were in favour of the Union, 
and the corrupt parliament, who had ever acted against 
the mass of the people, were willing to sell their country, 
if they could be well paid, and Lord Castlereagh pro¬ 
posed a compensation of £ 15,000. to every returned mem¬ 
ber of parliament, and every purchased member should 
have his purchase-money returned, and £1,500,000. 
should be raised from the public treasure for recom- 


OF IRELAND. 


145 


penses, to such as should be losers by the Union, and 
that Irish parliament proved its own baseness by selling 
itself, and the people for a million and a half of money ! 
This bill was sanctioned by royalty, and £1200. a year 
each, was granted to four commissioners to carry out 
the salaries. 

Grattan, in despair, retired from the House of Com¬ 
mons, he had seen their nefarious bribery, had known 
how Lord Cornwallis had traversed the island, and flat¬ 
tered the gentry. His caitiffs, Grattan observed, “ were 
in the lobby, in the streets, on the steps, and at the door 
of every parliamentary leader, offering titles to some, 
offices to others, and corruption to alland this staunch 
friend of Ireland, went to Wicklow, became ill, but when 
emaciated and apparently past recovery, by disappoint¬ 
ment and grief, he was prevailed upon to be placed in 
a carriage, and taken to Dublin in the night, and once 
more raise his voice for his country. 

He was led into the house, the astonished members 
rising to see a ghost, at the hour of five, come among 
them ; but this ghost again took the oath, attempting to 
rise, but was too feeble, and, requesting to retain his 
seat, he made a speech, a last one, which collected 
strength both of body and mind as it proceeded, and 
nearly two hours he thrilled the audience with facts, but 
these facts had come too late, and the anti-unionists 
ceased any further effort. 

Daniel O’Connell, then but a stripling, had, in a 
meeting of the catholics, in 1800, which had assembled 
to petition parliament against the Union, declared, that 
rather than concede to a Union, he would prefer the penal 
code in all its horrors, and would much rather confide 
in the justice of his protestant brethren at home than 
place his country at the feet of foreigners ; and from 
that hour to 1847, when he died, did he maintain those 
principles which he there avowed. For more than forty 
years has he clamoured, long and loud, for the same 
thing, Irish independence and the people's rights, whether 
catholic or protestant ; and though, in much of his creed, 
he was a papist in the fullest extent, yet this never in- 

h 


146 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


fluenced him where justice pleaded for protestant rights. 
To him do the presbjterian ministers of Ireland owe the 
privilege of marrying their own people, and having their 
children acknowledged as legitimate ; and had none but 
dissenters been taxed with tithes for a state church, he 
would probably have been effectual in battering down 
that wall. Peace and universal freedom were not only 
his watchword, but in practice he carried them out. 
Through all his repeal agitation, he kept down every 
appearance of insurrection ; and while in jail, the country 
was then in such a state of agony, resentment, and de¬ 
spair, that they feared nothing but his mandate, and that 
mandate was peace, and peace was maintained. 

“ We are all dead,” said the poor peasants, as they 
stood about his jail window, or sat upon a bank in 
front of it, or breaking stones by the way-side, “ Ireland 
is dead, and O’Connell wont let us fight/’ That it w r as 
the people’s rights he was seeking, more than popish 
ascendancy, was manifest from the state of feeling among 
the catholic aristocracy; many of them were his bitterest 
foes, and though for their religion and the priest’s sake, 
they might pay for masses at his burial, yet in their 
hearts they thanked the holy Virgin for their good luck 
in his removal, and prayed her from the very soul not to 
send them another such a “son of thunder/’ 

That he hated slavery he gave sufficient proof, by 
refusing money sent him by slaveholders. “ Take back 
your money , and let it perish with you—it is the price of 
blood,” he said to the astonished repealers at the south 
in the United States. Let the Free Church of Scotland 
blush when she reads this. 

He was certainly an indulgent landlord, for he de¬ 
manded but a shilling an acre upon the same kind of 
land for which others claimed twenty or more, and never 
disinherited any. Pity that the Times’ commissioner 
forgot to tell this part of the story, when it told the 
world truly that his tenantry looked as miserably as any 
in all Ireland. 

His enemies say, and his friends do not all deny it, 
that he loved money, and was aiming continually to 


OF IRELAND. 


147 


aggrandises liis children. He loved money, and no man 
was acquiring it faster by a profession than he was, when 
he relinquished it for the repeal agitation. That he 
wished to aggrandise his children is, doubtless, true ; 
and let the kingdom of Britain in toto answer, if this is 
not the god of gods, the great Juggernaut of the nation, 
to leave a name and inheritance for their children, to 
make them “ respectable ,” to toil early and late, that their 
children may forego the luxury of earning honestly their 
bread by the disgraceful “ sweat of the face.” Should 
every member who has sat in the British House of Par¬ 
liament, from the time of the Agitator’s election, be 
called to testify what was the torment, the never-dying 
zvorm that ever and anon was gnawing them, they would, 
with one heart and voice, respond, “ Daniel O' Connell /* 
his crashing thunderbolts were falling every where, and 
his scathing lightning was scorching every thing; he 
tore up and turned out all that was fearful and hateful, 
and boldly, yes, impudently, told them to look at it. 
With one hand he held up the mutilated laws, with the 
other his country ; and while his deep-searching eye 
penetrated the former, he challenged his brethren to 
look well at the disgusting tatters of the latter. In 
that house, would it be profane to say, that he was 
obiquity itself. 

He sleeps in a gilded coffin in a cemetery at Dublin, 
the hoarse grumbling of his voice will be heard no more 
by his countrymen; but let the loud whistling of the 
winds on the bold mountains of Kerry, and the mad 
dashing waves that wash their feet, sing the requiem of 
the man who nestled his solitary dwelling there, amid 
their wild roar and tempest. His “ mantle” has fallen 
on no one, his bishopric who will desire to take. Let 
his epitaph be written :— 

DANIEL O’CONNELL, AND NOBODY ELSE. 

Pardon this straggling episode, the Union is left safe, 
for beside 130,000 glittering bayonets to hold it together, 
the Insurrection Act, kept every “ rebel” in-doors, from 
sunsetting to sunrising, under the penalty of transpor- 

h 2 


148 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


tation. The government might now well sympathise 
with the pious mother, who whipped her daughter most 
soundly, to make her love God! 

It was after this Union, and during the Insurrection 
Act, that young Emmet, who had fled to France, re¬ 
turned ; and burning with love for his country, deter¬ 
mined on the rash act, the termination of which is well 
known, and can never be forgotten, for as he said, “ My 
country will write my epitaph,” so it has , his spirit ever 
and anon rises up in the person of some Mitchell or 
O’Brien, which like his, has been zealous beyond pru¬ 
dence, and daring beyond reason. 

O’Oonnell escaped better, with nothing but a well- 
furnished parlour, locked at night for a few months, 
because he understood how to keep within the limits of 
law. The catholic emancipation which was so faithfully 
promised at the getting up of the Union, had to struggle 
on for years in “ durance vile,” and not till the famous 
Catholic Association, organized by O’Connell and Skeill, 
v. 7 as in full operation, did the government move on the 
subject. This was too formidable, and was once put 
down ; but only drew in its horns to push them out still 
further, for instead of meeting in one vast body at 
Dublin, they met in smaller detachments, and every 
man was at his post; at last O’Connell was elected, 
1,500,000 people met in different parishes at the same 
hour, January 21st, 1828, and petitioned parliament, all 
was peace and ended in a favourable answer; their host 
was too numerous, too well organized, and their claims 
too just to be rejected. 

Twenty years have they been looking out, partly 
released, but the cords are not all cut, and the partial 
emancipation served only to give them a higher zest for 
more of the savory repast, which their unsatisfied stomachs 
demanded. The great the grand prime right of all is 
still withheld— Land , land —something to call their own 
—where they can dig for themselves, and not beg from 
those who withhold from them their just and moral 
rights. 

The Queen has lately made them a visit, so did George 


OF IRELAND. 


149 


IV., in 1821. He was received with all that enthu¬ 
siastic warmth that the Irish ever manifest and feel for 
their superiors who show them the least condescension. 
A monument, of excellent taste, is modestly looking out 
upon the sea, in Kingstown Harbour, where his majesty 
first landed, and his foot is engraved upon the base of 
the pedestal. He expressed great satisfaction with his 
reception, and through one of his ministers, he sent a 
letter to testify the pleasure he had enjoyed in the visit, 
wishing them all peace and prosperity ; he ratified all 
this the next year, by renewing the Insurrection Act, 
and suspending the Habeus Corpus Act. The Queen 
has made them a visit the past year, and to the hoping 
and trusting Hibernians it was a joyous one. Gladly 
would they pluck out their eyes for her sake, if need be, 
for in the midst of all their repeal agitation, and the so- 
called late “rebellion,” if the name of Victoria were 
mentioned, like electricity, every cap was doffed, and 
the echo after echo went up, “ God save the Queen ! ” 
from every lip. The ragged peasant who sat on the 
hill-side when her majesty entered the Cove of Cork, 
and said,—“ God bless her honour, not a ha’porth of the 
cratur’s would died of the hunger, if she’d had her way,” 

. was but a true representative of all the suffering poor of 
that country; and shall her visit do no more for that 
miserable race, than to gladden their hearts and raise 
their hopes, to be plunged again in deeper despondency. 

Surely, had she unknown gone into one miserable 
hovel, and seen the reality , the true state of millions of 
these her devoted subjects, her liberal heart would have 
devised more “liberal things” for that stricken people. 
But she has ministers, and though they most reverently 
“ spread their garments in the way,” and say, “ her 
majesty,” yet this “majesty” is expected, if not re¬ 
quired to have no 'practical will distinct from what they 
in their wisdom may direct. Am I right ? 

Allow me now to say, that the preceding pages, dull, 
and hackneyed as they may be, will, if no more, help 
those readers, who are inquiring, hoiv Ireland has 
become so singularly wretched, to reach the question by 


150 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


a shorter route, than plodding through the scores of 
writers on Ireland to meet the subject. The second 
part is, to prove the fact, so far as ancient documents 
show, that the Emerald Isle once was a bright spot in the 
ocean, that she had in deed and in truth her “ saints/ ’ 
her men of learning,-her churches, surpassing all those 
of the neighbouring nations—that she had her poets 
and bards ; and that even before vital Christianity was 
lighted up in Tara’s halls, she had a refinement, a 
morality, an equity of laws, a philosophy, a class of just 
thinking, and just acting legislators, that a Seneca or 
Socrates, might not have disowned as disciples. 

And they had their bards, and poets too. In vain 
does Macpherson attempt to rob them of their “ Ossian.” 
No discerning traveller can go now into the fastnesses of 
the rocky sea-coast; but he will hear in every utterance 
from the wild mountain dweller, a breathing of that 
Ossianic spirit, that no other nation breathes. That 
spirit which with him tells you— 

“ My soul, I replied, 0 , warrior, burns in a light of its own.” 

it is, indeed, their own light, and who shall dare to puff 
out his breath to extinguish it! 

The world, says Maria Child, in words to this effect, needs 
just such a warm-hearted people, to mingle through it, 
and check its hard-hearted selfishness. But her enemies 
say, she is warlike, she loves to fight. And what nation 
does not; when money and honour too, are held out ? 
What Christian nation in the nineteenth century, had 
not rather boast of her “ thousands slain,” than to read 
that one regiment turned its back upon the enemy i 
Does not a proud navy-yard, with her arsenals, her 
cannons, her bomb-shells, and her bold masts of war 
looking up to the heavens thrill with exulting delight 
through more bosoms, than the shelves of Bibles and 
tracts in a mission-house % And could not a few thou¬ 
sands be collected with greater facility to scatter death 
into a foreign nation, than to send the word of life and 
peace to a benighted isle of the sea. Then though in 
the early history of Ireland, we find not only her de- 


OF IRELAND. 


151 


voted saints, but her proud-boasting chieftains of war, 
who were raising their stones of victory, wherever a 
neighbouring clan could be routed, candour can only 
say, that an advanced Christianity has carried forward 
more effectually, and more genteelly, in the “ dry tree,” 
what was done more roughly in the “ green.” 


PART SECOND. 


CHAPTER XI. 

“ Turn back the page and search the ancient pedigree.” 

We have been passing through some of the “ Shades” 
of the Emerald isle, and let us look through the thick 
gloom and dwell for a little time upon some of her 
44 Lights.” 

When for eighteen months I had explored the entire 
counties of the south below Dublin, and met every 
where such strange antipodes of variety and deformity,— 
wealth, and poverty—but above all, so many remains of 
ancient grandeur trodden under foot, I resolved that as 
I further proceeded and explored the north, I would in¬ 
quire and read, and make myself better acquainted with 
the history of past ages, while passing along. The Archaeo¬ 
logical Society of Dublin, has for the last few years been 
making researches into this subject and have been able 
to compile a number of volumes of valuable material, 
gathered from manuscripts, written in Irish, and some 
collected from the “ Four Masters.” These “ Four 
Masters ” were learned men of integrity, who travelled 
the island collecting facts, and in 1632, commenced 
writing the annals, which were finished in 1636, and are 
now in the library of the Royal Irish Academy at Dublin. 
They are valued as works of the greatest merit on ancient 
Ireland. Tadhy of the Mountain, otherwise Michael, 
spent ten years travelling in Ireland to collect manu- 




152 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


scripts for Colgan, in compiling the Acta Sanctorum. A 
high character is given of him. The customs of the 
bards, who celebrated the character and feats of conse¬ 
quential families, have thrown much light on the ancient 
manners of this people. 

Having had access to a number of volumes of the 
Archaeological Society, through the kindness of one of 
its members, of the family of O’Dowdas, 1 copied some 
of its records, and will give the life and character of 
Cormac, who preserved the “ Records of Tara,” and to 
whom writers of ancient Ireland are greatly indebted. 

CORMAC. 

“ So wise and so good a king as was Cormac of the 
beginning of the third century, that his records should 
be carefully preserved, and his name held in honourable 
remembrance.” 

He was the son of Art, and grandson of Con of the 
“ hundred battles.” He attempted to reform the religion 
of the Druids, and as a reward met with violent opposi¬ 
tion. Ireland in his reign reached the height of civi¬ 
lization and learning. He was expelled from Ulster by 
Fergus, the monarch of Ireland, but by applying to the 
greatest warrior of the day, Lughuidh-Laga, who had 
killed his father, Art, he destroyed Fergus and took pos¬ 
session of the kingdom, and for wisdom and splendour, 
he is said to be the Solomon of Ireland. He built the 
palace of Tara, and revised the annals of the kingdom— 
he founded three academies at Tara, for law, literature, 
and military science. He was himself a bard, a lawyer, 
and philosopher. He caused the Psalter of Tara to be 
compiled, in which were the pedigrees of whole families, 
the boundaries of their territories, the tributes payable 
by the provincial kings to the monarch, &c., a copy of 
which is said to be in the British Museum. He wrote 
some laws on different degrees of punishment, and many 
useful proverbs. 

He lost one eye, and was thus, by the laws of the 
country, rendered unfit for government, though he 
reigned in great justice for forty years. He then retired 


OF IRELAND. 


153 


to his cottage of Clethy near the Boyne, and devoted 
the remainder of his life to philosophic contemplation. 
He resigned his crown to his son Cairbre of the Liffey, 
and to him he wrote his royal precepts, which are left 
on record, and translated by Donovan the editor of the 
Archaeological works, from the original Irish. They are 
beautiful specimens of wisdom and greatness. “ 0, 
grandson of Con O’Cormac,” said Caibre, “ What is good 
for a king T “ That is plain,” said Cormac, “ it is good 
for him to have patience without debate, self-govern¬ 
ment without anger, affability without haughtiness, dili¬ 
gent attention to history, strict observance of covenants 
and agreements, strictness mitigated by mercy in the 
execution of laws, peace with the districts, lawful wages 
of vassalage, justice in decisions, performance of promises, 
hasting with justice, protection of his frontiers, honour¬ 
ing the nobles, respect to the Alias, adoration of the 
great God.” The question is a second, third, and fourth 
time asked, respecting various duties, all which are 
answered in wisdom, becoming a Christian.—“Attention 
to the sick, easy of access, liberal, serene, and good- 
hearted, abstemious, kind to orphans, affectionate and 
intelligent, mercy and good morals, union and love ; to 
hearken to the instruction of the wise, and deaf to the 
mob ; charity to the poor ; let him communicate his 
secrets to few ; let him abominate falsehood; let him 
love truth.” 

Next follow the customs of a banquet at Tara, and 
well may Tara’s halls be held in pleasant and sad remem¬ 
brance by the Irish, well may they sigh when— 

“ They think of the days of other years.” 

« Let him (that is the king) appear splendid as the sun 
at the banquet, in the house of Midchurta, that is the 
middle house at Tara. 

“ The son then asks the duties of a prince at a ban- 
queting-house. 

“ A prince on Laman’s day, (1st of November,) should 
light his lamps and welcome his guests by clapping of 
hands, procure comfortable seats ; the cup-bearers should 

11 3 


154 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


be respectable and active in the distribution of meat 
and drink. Let there be moderation of music, short 
stories, a welcoming countenance, failtie for the learned, 
pleasant conversations, &c. These are the qualifications 
by which a king and chieftain should be esteemed.” 

His death is recorded by Tigernach of Clonmaenoise, 
thus :—“ Cormac, grandson of Con of the Hundred Bat¬ 
tles, died at Clethy, on Tuesday, the bone of a salmon 
sticking in his throat; or, according to others, it was 
the Siabra (invisible genii) that killed him, at the in¬ 
stigation of Mackleim the Druid, because Cormac did not 
believe in him.” From this, it appears, that Cormac 
fell a victim to the envy of the Druids. 

tara’s hall. 

This celebrated hall, of which so much has been said 
and sung, was in the county of Meath, and was called 
the palace of Thee-more, meaning large-house, built of 
wood, 300 feet long, 45 feet high, and 75 feet broad, 
with 14 floors, each king, prince, and deputy having a 
separate apartment. In the middle was the throne for 
the elected monarch of Ireland, facing the west, the 
kings and deputies of Munster on his left, those of Ulster 
on his right, Leinster in front, and Connaught in the 
rear, to guard and watch the whole. The great court 
was surrounded by four large ones, with three more for 
female attendants, state prisoners, and felons. A sump¬ 
tuous dinner was taken before business commenced. 
When the dinner was prepared, the grand-marshal 
ordered the chief-trumpeter to sound three times, with 
a pause between each. At the first sound the shield- 
bearers of the princes and deputies went to the grand 
door, and gave their masters shields to the marshal, 
who hung them in the order of precedence; on the 
second blast, the shield-bearers of the generals did like¬ 
wise, and they were placed in a second row; on the 
third sound, all the members politely entered taking 
their seats under their shields ; the poets and antiqua¬ 
rians at one end of the table, and the officers of the 
court at the other. After dinner their business com- 


OP IRELAND. 


1 55 


menced soberly and solemnly. The transactions of the 
day were then written by the bards, and registered in 
the Psalter of Thee-more. 

Before this, an annual settlement was had, when all 
disputes were adjusted, and plans for futurity laid down. 
The druids and bards then instructed the youth; but 
these law's and records then confined to the memory of 
the druids and bards, often became suspicious, as the 
false honour of these depositors of facts, often led them 
to exaggeration. 

The records written down at the time, were kept at 
Tara’s hall, w'hich dissatisfied the lords; but the pro¬ 
mulgation of the scriptures, in the year 600, showed 
the necessity of written laws, and finally almost banished 
traditionary records. Yet now may be traced among the 
old ancient families and among the mountain and island 
peasantry, a spicing of this habit, which is not only rich, 
but highly poetical, and the lover of antiquity almost 
regrets that the custom was ever abolished. Ah ! where is 

“ The light that once in Tara’s halls,” 
shed beauty over that vast assembly. 

Now, the peasant as he stands on that hill of Tara, 
and points the stranger to the spot, 

“ To show where once she lived,” 

gives a brightened tale, half fable, yet mixed with 
sprinklings of real fact, well borne out by the manu¬ 
scripts preserved by Cormac. 

In the Archaeological Museum at Dublin, are golden 
shields, golden balls, and golden bracelets, all of the 
brightest lustre and beauty; the bracelets heavy, and 
all testifying that gold was used in great abundance. 
When looking on these ornaments and reading the nar¬ 
ration of that vast and v r ell-ordered assemblage, con¬ 
vened to transact and record the history of the nation, 
imagination reverts to the Temple of Solomon, and w'e 
say, with the Queen of Sheba, when she saw the sitting 
of the servants, the attendance of the ministers and their 
apparel, and his cup-bearers, &c. : “ Happy are these thy 
servants, w'hich stand continually before thee.” 


156 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


Learning was then so highly cultivated, before France 
or England had scientific men, that the Saxon youth 
from England, through special favour of the Irish 
princes, were sent to receive their education at the 
college of Mayo, and this was gratis. The celebrated 
Alfred was educated here, and laid, it is said, the foun¬ 
dation of the college at Oxford, sometime in 800. 

“ The Druids who watched over the sacred class, re¬ 
quired twelve years of divinity study, the bards were 
over the profane class, and the Brehons acted as lawyers 
over the last class, and these were bound to study all 
their lives.” * 

The true language of Ireland is said to be a compound 
of Celtic and Phoenician, and the most copious in the 
world. Books became so voluminous, that king Lugiere, 
in 433, caused the records to be searched, and expunged 
from them the druid ical ghosts and fairy annals. The 
true records were preserved, including the Book of Ard- 
magh, the Psalters of Cashel and Tara, and the Book of 
Glendalough. 

Learned men were then numerous, and they be¬ 
queathed vast sums of money and land to educate the 
poor, and though but a few traces can now be found 
where this money is appropriated, according to its 
original design, yet a solitary case here and there, 
shows that such a legacy has been left. The Blue Coat 
Hospital in Dublin, is a specimen of some ancient legacy, 
of the kind. 


SAINT PATRICK. 

As this celebrated apostle stands pre-eminent in the 
Irish heart and calendar, he merits a place near the 
time when these sketches are here recorded, living as he 
did in the 4th century. 

From Wills, I find so simple an account of this good 
man, that most of it shall be given in his own words. 
The Society of Irish Researches agreeing to the history. 

This sketch states that Niall of the Nine Hostages, 
when on an expedition to Gaul, found this boy of six¬ 
teen, and sold him into captivity in Ireland. Patrick 


OF IRELAND. 


157 


was captured by pirates and sold to a chief named 
Milcho, who dwelt in the county of Antrim, near the 
mountain of “ Slieve Mis.” Here, at the foot of this 
mountain for six years he passed his time, feeding the 
flocks of his master. His simple unvarnished confession 
is, “My constant business was to feed the flocks. I 
was frequent in prayer ; the love and fear of God more 
and more inflamed my heart. My faith was enlarged, 
and my spirit augmented, so that I said a hundred 
prayers by day, and almost as many by night. I arose 
before day to my prayers, in the snow, in the frost, and 
in the rain, and yet I received no damage, nor was I 
affected with slothfulness ; for then the Spirit of God 
was warm within me.” Simple, beautiful and affecting 
expression—“ the Spirit of God warm within me” 

The writer of this has truly said, “ This simple and 
beautifully just and harmonious view of the growth of 
Christian piety will convey an evidence of genuineness 
far beyond any elaborate reasoning of ancient records.” 
At the end of six years, Patrick says, “ He was warned 
of God in a dream to return home, and arose and betook 
himself to flight, and left the man with whom he had 
been six years.” Wills adds, that there seems to have 
been a law in Ireland, agreeable to the institution of 
Moses, that a servant should be released the seventh 
year. He fled, made his way to the sea, and want of 
money made it difficult to obtain a passage ; he obtained 
it—was again seized at the end of a month, and kept 
two months in captivity. He reached home, was joyfully 
welcomed by his parents, who wished to detain him, but 
a dream again set him on a different course. In this 
dream he received letters, a man from Ireland presenting 
them ; and opening one, he read “ vox Hibernianacum,” 
and imagined, at the same'time, that he heard the voice 
of the inhabitants that lived hard by the wood of Fallut, 
near the western sea, crying to him with one voice, “We 
entreat thee, holy youth, to come and walk amongst us.” 
From this moment, he resolved to go and instruct the 
Irish, whose language he had thoroughly acquired, while 
tending his master’s flocks at the foot of the mountain. 


158 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


He resolved first to travel into foreign countries, to ac¬ 
quire more knowledge and experience. At the age of 
thirty, he placed himself under the tutelage of Germanus, 
a bishop of Auxerre, in Burgoyne. Here he seems to be 
lost for many years in history. He is then said to be 
ordained by the bishop, who gave him the name of 
Magonius. He afterwards dwelt in a community of 
monks, on an island of the Mediterranean. The state 
of Christianity in the island was deplorable; the holy men 
had spent their lives in almost a fruitless struggle against 
the pagan priests. Palladius, the immediate precursor of 
St. Patrick, had retired in terror and despair from the 
strife. The gospel, it is said, had been carried to this 
island in its purity before this; but it now had become 
so tinctured with Pelagianism, it had lost that vitality 
necessary in contending with a pagan religion. 

Palladius had been sent by a bishop of Rome in the 
year 431 to the Irish Channel, “ to the Scots believing in 
Christ,” but being ignorant of their language, and void 
of courage, he left the island in the same year, and died 
in Scotland. In 429, Patrick accompanied Germanus 
and Lupus to Britain, and there he determined to visit 
Ireland and preach the gospel. He went to Gaul, re¬ 
ceived episcopal orders when in his forty-fifth year, and 
Auxilius, and Isernus, and twenty other pious men 
accompanied him thither. They landed in Jubber Dea, 
now called the port of Wicklow. He first converted the 
grandson of Finchad, the eighth in descent from Cormac, 
king of Leinster. Nathi, the chief, who had terrified 
Palladius, opposed him. He proceeded to a place near 
the mouth of the river Bray, and reached an island on 
the coast of the county of Dublin, where he and his com¬ 
panions rested awhile ; he then sailed to the Bay of Dun- 
drum, and landed in the county of Down. A herdsman 
seeing him, in fright ran to his master, who rallied his 
men, but meeting the venerable appearance of St. Patrick, 
his fear was changed to respect; he invited him and his 
company to his house, and became a convert to his reli¬ 
gion. The barn, where he celebrated worship, obtained 
the name of Patrick’s barn. Success now followed the 


OP IRELAND. 


159 


saint wherever he went; his sanctity of appearance, his 
eloquence, united with the co-operation of the Holy 
Spirit, made him an object of veneration in every place. 
Conal, the grandfather of Columbkille, became a con¬ 
vert, and a monastery was founded, now called Down¬ 
patrick, and the prince built a dwelling near this for 
himself. Patrick went next to the county of Mayo, 
where the false legend of his banishing the serpents from 
the island, from the top of Crough-Patrick, took its 
rise. He founded a monastery in the county, called the 
Omalys. It was at a well now pointed out near Killala, 
that he is said to have baptized seven sons of the king of 
Connaught, together with 7000 men. I have stood by 
the side of this pool and tasted its pure waters, and when 
the tale was related by my companion, it was received 
as a fiction, but higher authority places it on creditable 
ground. Many fabulous accounts are related of him; 
but his own confessions are, that in his travels he con¬ 
verted many thousands, and formed ecclesiastical insti¬ 
tutions in places where converts had been made. Men¬ 
tion is made, that in 452 one of his bishops died—the 
first that had died in Ireland. His name was Secundus, 
and he published a poem in honour of St. Patrick. 

He wrote a letter about this time to the tyrant Coro- 
ticus, who was a piratical chief, and though he pro¬ 
fessed Christianity, he carried away captive a number of 
converts. St. Patrick wrote him a private letter which 
was disregarded; he then wrote a public one, full of 
decision and Christian kindness, proclaiming to all, 
“ that these murderers and robbers are excommunicated 
and estranged from Christ, and that it is not lawful to 
show them civility, nor to eat and drink with them, nor 
receive their offerings, until they sincerely repent, by 
liberating the servants of God.” Could any Christian 
church in the nineteenth century go beyond this in gos¬ 
pel discipline and Christian faithfulness % This letter, 
Wills says, breathes the deepest piety, and the utmost 
abhorrence of selling the children of God to pagan 
nations. “ His entire life is replete with faithfulness 
and trials, and his perseverance almost unparalleled. 


160 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


In Dublin be baptized king Alphin, and all his people, 
in a fountain called St. Patrick’s well. He built a church 
on the foundation of which stands the cathedral of 
St. Patrick. He then went to Armagh, founded a city 
there, and established schools, a cathedral and monas¬ 
tery, and intended to make it the primatial see of the 
Irish church. This was in 454. Here, and at a 
favourite retreat, Sabhul, he passed the remainder of 
his days. He was seized with his last illness at Sabhul, 
near Downpatrick; he wished to die in Armagh, and 
attempted the journey, but was compelled to return, and 
died on the 17th of March 465. 

Those who deny that such a man ever existed, will 
find a difficulty in reconciling, how, so many in all ages, 
would have agreed to lie together, like Ananias and 
Sapphira, with no seeming contradiction for so many 
ages. Not a ruin, scarcely, in Ireland, but is in some 
way connected with his history. I found at Newry, in 
the north of Ireland, a history of a monastery founded in 
1182, and the annals of the “ Four Masters” give this 
description of it :— 

“ The monastery of the monks of Newry was burned 
with all its furniture and books, and also the yew tree 
which St. Patrick himself had planted.” The yew is a 
native of Ireland, lives to a great age, and is often found 
in a fossil state. The fact, that both protestants and 
catholics claim him as belonging to their party, is circum¬ 
stantial evidence at least, that he belongs to neither. The 
more rational conclusion is, that when a simple shepherd- 
boy, like the Psalmist of Israel, he was sweetly drawn by 
the Holy Spirit, whispering in his bosom while watching 
his flock among those romantic mountains, and there, in 
the school of Christ, disciplined and trained for all the 
duties and hardships he was afterwards destined to per¬ 
form among that interesting people. He was simply a 
Christian taught of God ; and as well might the history 
of Josephus be disputed as that of St. Patrick. 


OF IRELAND. 


161 


COLUMBKILLE. 

This second St. Patrick lived in the sixth century, was 
born in 521, when, as his historian relates, Ireland was 
in its glory, and sent out the words of life and peace to 
the British isle. 

Columbkille was of royal race, in the fourth generation 
of the Nine Hostages. He studied at Down, under 
St. Einian, and early acquired a reputation for piety and 
knowledge of the scriptures. He was so celebrated for 
his meekness, that the children when they saw him called 
him the “ Pigeon of the Church.” This epithet ad¬ 
hered to him, though his name given at his baptism was 
Crionthian. He founded a monastery at King’s County 
called Dearmach, that is, the “ Field of Oaks.” Another, 
near the city of Derry, which was a great favourite, and 
which was subject to much change and trouble. A tract 
of land was granted him by Prince Adrian, and his 
monastery at length grew into the famed city of Derry. 
The annals of the “ Four Masters ” say, that from 783 
to 1222, when it was plundered by O’Neil, it passed 
through twelve burnings and plunderings. So attached 
was he to this place, that he requested that the de¬ 
lightful grove near Derry might ever remain uncut; 
and if any of the trees should happen to fall, or be torn 
up by a storm, the tree, or trees, should not be removed 
for nine days ; the tenth of the price should then be 
given to the poor, a third reserved for the hospitable 
hearth, and the remainder distributed among the citizens. 
One might imagine to stand upon an eminence that over¬ 
looks a part of that city, and the beautiful water that 
borders it upon the other side, and see the rich forests of 
trees that are waving beyond, that Columbkille’s grove 
was still kept in sacred remembrance, and if his trees had 
been burned upon the “ hospitable hearth,” from their 
ashes had started others equal in stateliness and verdure. 

He established, not far from a hundred monasteries, 
though at first he was opposed to, nunneries. After he 
had established his Derry monastery, he travelled through 
the country to exhort the inhabitants to a life of piety, 
but like all other good missions his met with difficulties ; 


162 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


but lie succeeded in founding many churches, and then 
resolved to visit the Piets. He arrived in Britain in the 
ninth year of Brude, king of the Piets, who soon became 
a convert. Then commenced a great work—many were 
converted ; and after labouring among the Grampian 
Hills, and the islands of the Druids, he revisited Ireland, 
and his establishments in the island ; he then returned 
to his church on the island of Hy, where he had loved 
to reside in his earlier days. 

He had there laboured and seen the fruits of his labour, 
and when sensible of the approach of death, he retired to 
a small eminence from which he was enabled to overlook 
the holy settlement, which was his work of piety, and the 
last worthy object of his affections, here lifting up his 
hands and eyes to heaven, he invoked emphatic blessings 
on his monastery. After this prayer, descending from 
the hill he returned and sat down in his shed or hut to 
transcribe the psalter, and coming to that verse in the 
third psalm, where it is written, that good shall not be 
wanting to those that trust in God, he said, “ Here I 
must stop at the end of this page—let Baithu write what 
is to follow.” Notwithstanding this he rallied so far as 
to attend evening service, after which, he retired to his 
cell and lay down upon his stone-bed. Again, at mid¬ 
night, he made another effort to attend worship, but 
finding his strength to fail he sunk before the altar. 
Here, the monks approaching, saw his reverend head 
extended in the last faint torpor of approaching death. 
Gathering round with their torches, they were giving 
way to their sorrow, when, as the writer of his life says, 
as I heard from some who were present, the saint, whose 
life had not yet departed, opened his eyes, and looked 
round with wonderful joy and cheerfulness ; then Dier- 
mitius raised the saint’s right hand to bless the train of 
monks there, but the venerable father himself at the 
same time moved it by a voluntary effort, and in the 
effort he expired, being then seventy-six years of age. 

Columbkille is still mentioned with such veneration 
by many of the peasants in Ireland, that a stranger to 
his history might suppose he had but lately died. 


OF IRELAND. 


163 


When Hy was infested by the Danes, Kenneth III. 
had his bones taken to Dunkeld, on the river Tay, and 
founded a church there to his memory. The Annals 
of the Four Masters , in 1006, mention a copy of the 
four gospels, said to have been written by Columbkille’s 
own hand, and preserved in a cover richly ornamented 
with gold. This manuscript is now said to be pre¬ 
served in the Library of Trinity College, Dublin. 

SAINT KIARAN. 

It was about the year 516, this peculiar man made 
his entry into the world; was baptised by St. Patrick; 
and in 548, Dermod, then monarch, granted him a tract 
of land near the bank of the river Shannon, on the east 
side, in the county of Meath. He built there an abbey— 
the ruins are now called Clonmanois—and so renowned 
did it become, that kings added nine churches for the 
burial of their own remains, within the space of two 
acres, and to this day one burial-place of the family of 
O’Maclaghlin, king of Meath, now remains. O’Kellys, 
Conors, MacDermots, show the remains of temples there 
built by their ancestors. One of these churches has been 
repaired for the parish church. These remains are con¬ 
sidered the most remarkable for their venerable appear¬ 
ance of any in Ireland, telling so emphatically of the 
ancient grandeur and taste of the Irish church, in her 
days of splendour. The title of Clonmanois, means “ the 
retreat of the sons of the noble,” and was once a seminary 
of the sons of chiefs and nobles. It continued long the 
see of the ancient bishopric. 

MacDermot’s church is described as having some work¬ 
manship of the highest finish. The low doors had fine- 
wrought marble pillars, curiously hewn ; another church 
has an “ arch of greenish marble, wrought and neatly 
polished, and the joints so close and even set, that the 
whole work seems one entire stone, as smooth as either 
glass or crystal.” 

This saint founded the abbey of Clonmanois in the 
King’s County, which was afterwards bestowed upon 
Saint Finian, by Cervail, monarch of Ireland. This 


164 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


abbey underwent many abuses in 838; the Danes de¬ 
stroyed it, and killed all the clergy ; and in 888, they 
destroyed it again. In 1136, the county of Leitrim and 
part of Cavan were, more cruel than their predecessors. 
In 1201, it was sacked by Meiler Fitz-IIenry, an English¬ 
man, and the work of destruction continued, till it was 
left to moulder away by time, till nothing remains but 
a pile of ruin, echoing faintly its former greatness. Like 
Glendalough, it has seven churches, and an annual patron 
is celebrated there in honour to the saint, who is held in 
such sacred remembrance that, in cursing or blessing, 
they often unite his name with God—“ God and Saint 
Kiaran after you,” is the imprecation. He died some¬ 
where about 549 or 550. 

SAINT MOLING. 

“ This saint was born in Wexford, and became a 
mighty man, and was called one of the four prophets of 
Ireland. Cambrensis says, that the books written by 
Columbkille, St. Patrick, Bracean, and Moling, in Irish, 
were in use in his time. He spent years in Glendalough, 
and wrote many proverbs, and was appointed, at the re¬ 
quest of the clergy, by the king of Leinster, to the vacant 
see and chair of Moicley. Ware says he was a signal 
benefactor to his country, and persuaded Fianacta, the 
king of Leinster, to undo the heavy burden of a tribute 
of oxen, which had affected that province ever since the 
fourth year of Techmor, 134, and had always been the 
cause of much blood.” Unfortunate Ireland has ever 
been doomed to some unreasonable tribute from time 
immemorial. In ancient days, the country abounded in 
cattle of the most beautiful kind, the land being admir¬ 
ably adapted to grazing, the grass, is rich and sweet; 
and some centuries gone by, the dames prided themselves, 
on the number of their cows more than all other riches 
but the number of their sons. And now, nothing looks 
more picturesque than the little fat cows, feeding in the 
green fields of the county of Kerry, which are generally 
black, small, and give an abundance of the richest of milk. 

In St. Moling’s time, cattle were the great sources of 


OF IRELAND. 


165 


wealth, and the avaricious tribute which government 
required drained the inhabitants so, that the burden 
became something like the poor-rates now, insupportable. 
Moling happily succeeded in undoing this oppression, 
then retired to a monastery, and resigned his see to 
other hands, and lived to a great age, and died in 697, 
and was buried at Tegh Mong. 

SAINT BRIDGET. 

The name of Bridget in Ireland stands inferior to 
none but the “blessed Virgin’sand she has no rivals 
hut St. Patrick and Mary. That such a person existed 
remains no longer doubtful. She was born in 439, and by 
her father was put into the charge of a hard, or rather 
the mother was placed there, to conceal the guilt of the 
father, who was married, and the mother of Bridget 
quite an inferior in rank. This hard was faithful to 
the infant, instructing her in all the knowledge of the 
age, by which he soon obtained a good reputation. But 
her sanctity of life and wdsdom w r ere the winder of the 
age. Even the ecclesiastics consulted her, and her advice 
was once alleged as being authoritative, in a synod held 
in Dublin.” 

So much that is fiction is related of her, that the real 
truth has been obscured ; yet enough is legible to prove 
that she was indeed valuable. Wills says, “she built 
herself a cell under a goodly oak.” This was certainly 
Deborah-like, and probably from this she went up to sit 
in the synod in Dublin. This cell became at last a mo¬ 
nastery for virgins, and was called the “ Cell of the Oak.” 
The crumbling church of Kildare is a faint memento of 
what was once the favoured resort of dignitaries w T ho 
chanted the praises of the holy saint, long after she had 
taken her flight. This church was much injured in the 
rebellion of 1641 ; a round tower stands at a distance 
adorned with a battlement, w'hich is a rare novelty, on 
one of these towers, and a little distance from this is the 
old “ Fire House,” where the inextinguishable fire w T as 
kept up by the nuns of St. Bridget. 

It seems that she w r as a great lover of the scriptures, 


166 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


for she desired a copy of the “ Harmony of the Gospels/' 
written by St. Jerome, to be made out, written in gold. 
Boetus mentions seeing it, and Stonihurt says, it was 
preserved as a memento of Kildare. She died in 510, 
and with Colombkille was taken from Iona and buried 
in the tomb of St. Patrick.” Her memory is held in 
great veneration, and a day called St. Bridget’s day is 
now commemorated by children, who dress up a St. 
Bridget, and present it to the windows of the gentry, 
asking a penny. 


SAINT KEVIN. 

“ This saint is of great consequence in the calendar of 
the holy, and was cotemporary with, Colombkille, born 
in 498, baptised by St. Cronon, and led a hermit’s life 
in Glendalough, where the remains of the seven churches 
now are, in the county of Wicklow. He died on the 
3rd of June, 618, at the age of 120.” 

The cave he inhabited has been mentioned in my 
first work on Ireland, hanging frightfully over the deep 
waters of the little lake, between the two mountains of the 
celebrated Glendalough, and his longevity may justly be 
attributed to the purity of the air that is circulating 
through the current of the mountains, over the sparkling 
waters that are rippling there ; as well as to the abste¬ 
miousness of his diet, for which hermits and monks are 
always celebrated. They must have taken their food for 
the most part uncooked, for their cells, which abound in 
Ireland, have no appearance of smoke, though a stone 
seat is often in the centre, and one in the corner for a 
pillow, plainly indicating that they sat and slept there. 
The remains of the seven churches which are in sight of 
this cave are a faithful memento of the religious zeal of 
the disciples of St. Patrick, for like people in all ages, 
when religion revives, these churches and chapels, rear 
their towers to the skies. 

Saint Patrick had drawn out, in the fourth century, 
men and women of like purity and zeal with himself; and 
though the scriptures were not abundant, yet they were, 
considered the more sacred on that account, and perhaps, 


OF IRELAND. 


167 


were studied with great care. Living as they did so near 
the apostles, and knowing the persecutions that they en¬ 
dured, is it not rational to conclude that they supposed, 
from the legacy of the Saviour, “ Through much tribu¬ 
lation,” &c., that this must, in some way or other, be 
verified, and if it did not occur by actual persecution from 
without, they must make it up in penance on themselves, 
or rather, that they felt required to be very self-denying. 
And though there is now much that is superstitious 
mingled with these practices, especially among the most 
ignorant; yet in the mountain districts, where they re¬ 
tain the primitive manners, where they wail for the dead, 
and where, like old Abraham and Sarah, they go out to 
welcome the stranger into their cabin, and set water to 
bathe the feet; there seems to be a patriarchal spirit, a 
germ of Christian vitality, which is burning in gospel 
purity. 

These ancient records, supported by good authority, 
have detailed the lives of multitudes of these Christians, 
but the limits of this work will allow but one more at 
present. This man, Saint Declon, is so connected with 
a celebrated tower, that both deserve a passing sketch at 
least. “ St. Declon, in the fourth century, built a tower, 
in the county of Waterford, in the town of Ardmore, 
and which is considered as perfect as any in Ireland. 
The tower is 90 feet high, and 15 feet in diameter at 
the base, and the door is 16 feet from the ground, 
and divided into four stories, with each a window and 
loop-hole. It is strongly built, and no appearance of 
decay, and can be seen at a great distance/' This man 
built an abbey near the tower, which was always the 
custom, to place a tower near a church or abbey. When 
Declon was young, he visited Italy, returned to Ardmore, 
and preached, and lived to a great age. He was buried 
in the churchyard, in the dormitory, and the peasants 
have carried away so much of the clay from his grave, 
that there is an excavation some feet deep. This seems 
to be a tradition from the ancient Hebrews, or rather in 
accordance with the prophecy of Jerusalem, where it is 
said that the people shall u favour the dust thereof." 


168 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


The Jews now mingle the clay of Jerusalem with the 
dust of their departed relatives, by putting a handful 
into the coffin : so do the Irish this clay of St. Declon. 
A plate of it stands near the corpse, till put into the 
coffin, then the clay is put in, sometimes at the feet, and 
sometimes near the head. This is done in many parts 
of Ireland, where one dies who is considered peculiarly 
holy. They use the clay to put in the coffin of their 
dearest friends. There is likewise a holy well bearing 
the name of this saint. 

On a shelving rock, overhanging the bay of Ardmore, 
is the rnin of an ancient temple, called Dissart. This 
ruin had left, a few years ago, a gable, with a well- 
finished gothic window, but this has since been blown 
aw^ay by the wind. Hugh Byrne, a soldier of the Donegal 
militia, after the rebellion of ’98, resorted to this spot, 
lived and died here, and was buried by the side of Saint 
Declon. Though there is danger of idolatry in retaining 
relics of the dead, yet there is something beautiful, if 
not sacred, in this respect for the places of the departed ; 
and we find the nearer w r e approach the customs of 
patriarchal days, and wffiere nature is not stifled by 
the absurdities of fashion, this fine sentiment pre¬ 
dominates most. 

I would not check that wild mountain wail which the 
Irish mother often “ raises over the grave” of her “ fair¬ 
haired boy/’ as she visits it, after he has long departed, 
w r hen she cries, “ Ah, my vourneen, my darlin’, why did 
ye leave the bosom of her that reared ye, and why did ye 
go from the w r aurm cabin for the cowld bed that covers 
ye.” I w r ould not envy the elevated attainments of that 
heart who could pass through the field of Machpelah, 
and not visit the sepulchre of Abraham and Sarah, if 
they could be identified, nor the pillar of Absalom, if it 
be now standing. 


OF IRELAND. 


169 


CHAPTER XII. 

INAUGURATION OF KINGS. 

“ He shall ask about the stones and the aged shall reply.” 

This ceremony has now faint traces left, especially in 
Connaught, of the truth of the following dialogue de¬ 
scriptive of its peculiarities, by stones, like steps, which 
are fixed in the side of a hill, where we are told they 
stood on the occasion, sometimes one stone on a hill, 
which is called the throne, is pointed out to the traveller. 

Spencer, who lived in the days of Elizabeth, gives the 
following account of the inauguration of a king in the 
form of a dialogue. 

Endoxus .—What is that you call Tanist, and Zanistry 
—they be terms never heard or never known to us 1 

Irenus .—It is a custome amongst all the Irish pea¬ 
santry after the death of one of their chief lords or 
captaines, they do presently assemble themselves to a 
place generally appointed, and known unto them to 
choose another in his stead, when they do nominate and 
elect, for the most part, not the eldest sonne, nor any of 
the children of the lord deceased, but the next to him of 
blood,—that is, the eldest and worthiest, as commonly 
the next brother; and to him, if he have any, or the 
next cousin, or so forth, as any is elder in that kindred 
or sept, and then next to him do they choose that of the 
same blood to be Tanist, who shall next succeed him in 
the said capitantry if he live thereunto. 

Endoxus .—Do they not use any ceremony in this 
election, for all barbarous nations are commonly great 
observers of ceremonies and superstitious rites ? 

Irenus .—They used to place him, who shall be their 
captaine, upon a stone, always reserved for that purpose, 
and placed it commonly upon a hill, in some of which I 
have seen formed and engraven a foot, which they say 
“ was the measure of their first captaine’s foot,” whereon 
he standing receives an oath to preserve all the ancient 
former customs of the country inviolable, and to deliver 

i 


170 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


up the succession peaceably to his Tanist, and then hath 
a wand delivered unto him, by some whose proper office 
that is; after which, descending from the stone, he turneth 
himself round thrice forward, and thrice backward. 

Endoxus .—But how is the Tanist chosen ? 

Irenus .—They say that he setteth but one foot upon 
the stone, and receiveth the like oath that the captaine 
did. 

This form continued in Ireland till the reign of James 
the First in England, who succeeded Elizabeth, and 
abrogated all the Irish laws. The presenting of the 
wand was done by the chief bard, or chronicler of the 
district, and the historian gives the ceremony thus— 
(the account is inserted in the book of Lucan, of the 
inauguration of the O’Dowd) :— 

“ And the privilege of first drinking (at the banquet) 
was first given to O’Oaonhain by O’Dubhda, and O’Caon- 
hain was not to drink until he first presented it to the 
poet, that is to MacFirbis. Also the weapons, battle- 
dress and steed of O’Dubhda, after his nomination, were 
given to O’Caonhain, to MacFirbis, and it is not lawful 
ever to nominate the O’Dubhda, until O’Caonhain and 
MacFirbis pronounced the name, and MacFirbis brings 
the body of the rod over the head of O’Dubhda, and 
after O’Caonhain, and MacFirbis, and every clergyman 
and conhorbu of a church, and every bishop, and every 
chief of a district pronounced the name. And there is 
one thing should O’Dubhda be in Tirawley, he may re¬ 
pair to Carn Amhalgaidh, to be nominated, so that 
all the chiefs are about him, but should he happen to be 
at Carninghine Bhrian, it is not necessary for him to go 
over the Moy to have the title given to him, and it is 
not necessary for him to come across to Carninghine 
Bhrian from Carn Amhalgaidh, for it was Amhalgaidh, 
the son of Fiachra Ealgach that raised that Carn for 
himself, and all those that should obtain the lord- 
ship after him, might receive the style of lord upon it. 
And it is, in this Carn, that Amhalgaidh himself is in¬ 
terred, and it is from him it is named. And every king 
of the race, that shall not be thus nominated, shall have 


OF IRELAND. 


171 


shortness of life, and his race or generations shall not be 
illustrious, and he shall never see the kingdom of God. 
Finit Amen.” 

Another part of the ceremony it is stated, was that at 
the inauguration of the O’Conors, MacDermont, chief of 
Mayburg put on his shoe, and it is stated that in inaugu¬ 
rating the ehief of the O’Neil family, O’Hara threw a 
shoe or slipper over the head of the prince : this was in 
token “of luck or prosperity.” This turning round 
“ thrice forward and thrice backward, was in honour of 
the most Holy Trinity.” The Holy Trinity has been 
held in great veneration by the peasants of Ireland since 
the days of St. Patrick, who illustrated it as he was 
teaching and baptising, by the shamrock, which pretty 
leaf like the clover, is interspersed thickly over the 
mountains of the wildest part, its three leaves precisely 
alike growing out of one common stem, were a simple, 
happy illustration of the “ Three Persons ” in one; and 
unlearned theologians of the schools will not more beau¬ 
tifully expound this mystery, than will many of the 
unlettered peasants of the wildest districts; and so 
tenacious are they of the doctrine, that renouncing it 
would draw excommunication, with all the fearful denun¬ 
ciations of the Romish Church. 

The ceremony too of the shoe, retains a faint tradi¬ 
tion of the ratifying an agreement in the days of Israel, 
when the “plucking off a shoe ” was the confirmation 
of the covenant. 

In the Archaeological Museum in Dublin, are a pair of 
shoes, taken from the bogs, which have become petrified 
and hard as wood, these shoes are united by a short 
strap, the width of an inch, which extend from one sole 
to the other where the hollow of the foot is, this strap 
is left when the soles are cut out, and therefore needs 
neither sewing nor nailing. The king at his inaugura¬ 
tion was placed in these shoes—he could not walk in 
them, and the illustration was, that like these two shoes, 
he was united to the people, and as he stood firm in 
them, so he must stand firm in all that would promote 
the good of his people. These shoes were as carefully 


172 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


laid aside as is the crown of the queen, till the next king 
should need them. 

This idea is certainly as appropriate as it is novel, and 
savours much of a correctness of principle, and of the 
undivided unity which should subsist between the ruler 
and the people everywhere. 

Their custom of burying kings too had a significancy, 
which when understood, tells more for integrity than for 
barbarism. 

“ Kings and chieftains, were always buried in a stand¬ 
ing position.” The idea was, that they might always 
be looking at their people, in a figure implying, that 
though they were literally dead, yet the principles they 
had inculcated were living, and looking them full in the 
face. 

Eoghan commanded that they should bury himself 
with his red javelin in his hand in the grave, “Place 
my face towards the north on the side of the hill by 
which the northerns passed when flying before the army 
of Connaught; let my grave face them, and place myself 
in it after this manner, and this order was strictly obeyed. 
This so panic-struck the northerns that they were routed, 
and fled before their foes; and the people of the north 
came with a numerous host to Raith, and raised the body 
of Eoghan, and carried it across northward to Sligo, and 
buried it at the other side of the river, the mouth down, 
that it might not make them fly before their enemies. 
The poets, of which every family of note had one or 
more, have been quite lavish in their praises on Eoghan, 
and give his family and character in the following words : 
“The family of O’Madden about which there is little 
disagreement, some saying that it numbers but eighteen, 
others nineteen generations; but the beginning of their 
generations must have been as early back as 1100, for 
when the first English adventurers landed in Ireland, 
1170, to the time of Edward Bruce, who landed in 
Ulster, 1315, with a fleet of 300 ships, mention is made 
of Eoghan Madden, Madudan, Mor, Cathal, Gadhra, &c. 
This Gadhra was prince of Hymana, and was slain in 
1027. Eoghan Madden died in 1347, and by the poet 


OF IRELAND. 


173 


is represented as a man with the courage of a lion, with 
the venom of a serpent; the hawk of the Shannon ; a 
tower which defends the frontiers ; a griffin of the race 
of Con of the Hundred Battles ; a large man of slender 
body, with a skin like the blossoms of the apple-trees, 
with brown eye-brows, black curling hair, long fingers, 
and a cheek like the cherries.” 

From a manuscript found in the library of Trinity 
College, he is described thus :—“ There is a tranquil, 
benign, great, and honey-sweet voiced, regal, mild 
king ; and this king I mention is the noble-weapon, 
venomous Eoghan, son of the loud-voiced Murehadh— 
son of the lively-preying Cathal—son of the munificent 
Madudan—son of the expertly-wounding Diermaid— 
son of the renowned Madudan—son of the bright-faced 
Diermaid—son of the affluent Madudan—son of the 
filtering Gadhra.” 

After thus tracing him back to the original stock, it 
adds •—“ And this rapid-routing Gadhra was the last 
of his tribe who had dominion over the third .of the 
province of Smooth Callows, the river • Grion, in the 
peaked mountains ; meaning the river that falls into 
Lough Greney, in the barony of Tullegh, and county of 
Clare. The poet then breaks out, saying— 

“ My heart was wont to brighten as I viewed Loch Greine, 

The land, the country, and. the aspect of the sky ; 

Pleasant and delightful the situation of the mountains, 
Threatening their heads over each other.” 

Then after naming the predecessors of Eoghan, who 
“ruled justly in good peace, illustrious for hospitality,” 
then flourished Eoghan, for twenty years in the famed 
chieftainship, undisturbed in his prosperity by his neigh¬ 
bours, and his country not oppressed by lords. “ And 
in his time Scottish foreigners, less noble than our own 
foreigners arrived ) for the old chieftains of Erin pros¬ 
pered under those princely English lords, who were our 
chief rulers, and who had given up their foriegness for 
a pure mind, their surliness for good manners, and their 
stubbornness for sweet mildness, and who had given up 
their perverseness for hospitality.” 


174 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


This is a trite circumstantial evidence of the ancient 
disposition and manners of the English, proving, perhaps., 
unintentionally, that the English had become refined, by 
dwelling among the Irish. 

A note upon this lowers the flattery, by saying, that 
the writer of this tract was probably on good terms with 
the English of Connaught, and perhaps in their pay. 
The Irish remonstrated to Pope John, expressed that the 
English residing among them were a nation of extreme 
perfidiousness, and asked to shake off entirely their yoke. 
They then invited the gallant Edward Bruce, to whom, 
as being descended from their most noble ancestors, they 
would transfer their own right of royal dominion. It is 
further said of this Eoghan, that he had a powerful 
enemy in the person of Tadgh O’Kelly of North Hymany, 
who with his sons and great tribes, were ready on the 
slightest occasion to attack Eoghan; but we are told 
that God and his great virtues preserved him from 
destruction against all their assaults ; his valour saved 
him from being plundered by his neighbours; his gene¬ 
rosity protected him against the unjust. The blessings 
of the poor guarded him against diseases, and his piety 
sheltered him against bad men. 

The conditions of peace obtained by Eoghan from 
William, Earl of Ulster, were, that the third of his pro¬ 
vince should be under the control of him and his sons; 
that no English steward should preside over his Gaels, 
but that his stewards should be over the English of the 
entire territory of Hymany, both towers and castles. And 
it is added, that what procured him these privileges 
above all others was, the goodness of his truth, which was 
incorruptible, for he would not break his pledged word, 
for obtaining a recompense—a lordship equal to his own 
territory, and for the splendour of his house and his 
hospitality the English chieftains were fond of frequent¬ 
ing it, for he erected a strong castle of stone and fine 
timber, the like of which has not been erected by any 
sub-chief in Erin. He also repaired the churches of the 
country in general ; he cherished the civil customs of 
the people, teaching humanity and truth to the chief- 


OF IRELAND. 


175 


tains ; and for his wonderful character, his people were 
in such dread of him, that he needs no fetters, nor takes 
any hostages ; he refuses no gold, or horses, food, or kine; 
and he is the wealthiest of the race of Gaedhal for bestow¬ 
ing them. 

Then the eulogian breaks out in a stream of poetry:— 

<c He never sees hostages or fetters: 

He never refuses any one riches: 

The Prince of Ce is thus the richest: 

He is the firmest in his patrimony : 

He is the hardiest to protect the prey: 

And the best to destroy insurgents : 

He is the slowest to utter falsehood: 

He is the most expert of action, the most regal of size : 

He is the most generous to bestow kine: 

He is the hardiest in the battle of hard spears : 

The Prince of C. has got a hostage without treachery: 

He is the comeliest in every assembly.” 

Though these poets would be naturally prone to lavish 
all manner of fulsome praise on the princes who em¬ 
ployed and payed them well, yet the poets of neighbour¬ 
ing princes would he as eagle-eyed to discern their faults. 
And though on one side we might be in danger of find¬ 
ing a prince too good , yet on the other we should find his 
faults as much exaggerated, so that by taking a medium 
course we might meet with something like truth. 

Branches of these families are now existing, scattered 
through the west and south, and are easily distin¬ 
guished by those who have studied that people from the 
beginning j feeling as they do, that they are of royal 
descent, they, by an instinct which the Milesian pecu¬ 
liarly possesses, show that royalty, by a nobleness which 
carries conviction, that it is not put on for the occasion. 

The armorial bearings of the family of Eoghan are 
sculptured on a monument in the Abbey of Mulish, 
but so defaced that it is not to be taken as authority 
without other proof, which proof not being in my posses¬ 
sion cannot be given. 

Once having the honour of spending a few days m one 
of these princely families, nestled among the mountains 
of Connaught, no history was needed to prove, that the 


176 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


blood which flowed in their veins, was from a fountain 
unalloyed with the haughty bearings of the upstart 
great, or the cringing servility of the aspiring sycophant. 

It was a rainy sunset when I reached the mountain, 
and the courteous hearty salutation at the door banished 
all hesitancy on my part, of saying at once, that the 
shelter, which was greatly needed, was sought not only 
as a shelter , but as a specimen of an ancient noble race, 
which had retained the lineaments of a stock once exist¬ 
ing among these mountains, and whose last glimmering 
of light I longed to behold before the fading rays should 
be extinguished for ever. 

The clumsy walls and heavy antiquated furniture 
testified, that olden days had entertained guests for other 
purposes than mine, and that if the “ comely ” Eoghan 
had not graced these halls in person, his “ mantle ” must 
have fallen on sons and daughters worthy of his name. 

The spacious rooms were soon lighted; the ancient 
Irish harp was there, and fingers that could give it sweet 
sounds ; the flute, viol, and piano, had been added ; and 
when the manly sons and graceful daughters assembled 
together, to perform a few old Irish airs for my amuse¬ 
ment, had I seen among the ancient pictures which gilded 
the walls, a golden shield or two glistening, I might have 
imagined, that Tara’s halls were lighted again. It was 
too much—I hid my face in my hands. “ I thought of 
the days of other years, and my soul was sad I thought 
of the days when the sons and daughters of Erin, noble 
as these, were singing their sweet melodies every where 
among these mountains and dells. 

“ Ah !” said the comely mother, “ and does she think 
of the country and kin that’s far away.” This family 
was the best specimen of true Irish nobility of any I 
have met, owing probably to the fact, that it had not 
gone to decay so far as to induce a spirit of struggling 
resistance against the changes of fortunes, and therefore 
had no reasons for an apish conformity to modern 
manners to keep good its standing. They were proud 
rather to be called “Mere Irish '’ 

Honour, justice, and hospitality, were the peculiar 


OF IRELAND. 


177 


characteristics of these ancient people, and when one not 
possessed of these qualities was found among them, he 
was a mark of neglect and oftentimes great contempt. 

A noble personage was sure to be celebrated by the 
poets, and an ignoble one met a sarcastic rebuff, which put 
him out of countenance in all good society. It is remark¬ 
able that poetry changes into rhyme as it descends down; 
where the book of nature is obscured by the books of 
the schools—then man looks more outwardly to man , 
while the child or student of nature looks inwardly, 
more to the true life within him. 

A proverb originated in the province of Munster, 
which is retained to this day, when they wish to lower 
the vain pretensions of boastful persons. It took its 
rise from the pride of a woman in the humbler walks of 
life, of assuming consequence as being the possessor of 
three cows. Its date is the early part of the seventeenth 
century, when rhyme was in its infancy, and though 
quite homely, it is much in agreement with that sense 
of propriety which a true Irishman possesses. 

THE WOMAN OF THREE COWS. 

** 0 woman of three cows, agraph ! don’t let your tongue thus rattle ! 
0 don’t be saucy, don’t be stiff, because you may have cattle. 

I have seen, and here’s my hand to you; I only say what’s true, 

A many a one with twice your stock not half so proud as you. 

Good luck to you, don’t scorn the poor, and don’t be their despiser, 
For worldly wealth soon melts away, and cheats the very miser, 

And death soon strips the proudest wreath from haughty human 
brows. 

Then don’t be stiff and don’t be proud, 0 woman of Three Cows ! 

“ See where Monmia’s heroes lie, proud Owen More’s descendants, 
’Tis they that wore the glorious name, and had the grand attendants. 
If they were forced to bow to fate, as every mortal bows, 

Can you be proud, can you be stiff, my woman of Three Cows ? 

The brave sons of the lord of Clare they left the land to mourning, 
Morrone! for they were banished, with no hope of their returning. 
Who knows in what abode of want these youths are driven to house : 
Yet you can give yourself these airs, 0 women of Three Cows ! 

“ 0 think of Donnell of the ships, a chief whom nothing daunted, 

See how he fell in distant Spain, unchronicled, unchanted ; 

He sleeps, the great O’Sullivan, where thunders cannot rouse. 

Then ask yourself should you be proud, 0 woman of Three Cows ? 

i 3 


178 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


“ O’Rourk Maguire, those souls of fire, whose names are shrined in story, 
Think how their proud achievements once made Erin’s greatest glory ; 
Yet now their bones lie mouldering under weeds and cypress boughs ; 
And so for all your pride will yours, 0 woman of Three Cows ! 

The O’Carrolls too, so famed—when fame was for the boldest— 

Rest in forgotten sepulchres, with Erin’s best and boldest ; 

Yet who so great as they of yore, in cattle or carouse. 

Just think of that and hide your head, 0 woman of Three Cows ! 

“ Your neighbour’s poor, and you it seems, are big with vain ideas, 
Because, iagh ! you’ve got three cows, one more I see than she has. 
That tongue of yours wags more at times than charity allows, 

But if you’re strong, be merciful, 0 woman of Three Cows ! 

THE SUMMING UP. 

Now there you go ! you still of course keep up your scornful bearing, 
And I’m too poor to hinder you, but by the cloak I’m wearing, 

If I had but four myself, even though you were my spouse, 

I’d thwack you well to cure your pride, 0 woman of Three Cows !” 

This has more homely truth than fine poetic effusion, 
hut, it is quite in keeping with Irish character to this 
day—to suppress all vain pretension by ridicule. "When¬ 
ever one of their grade in the humbler walks of life 
assumes what is thought unfitting, somebody has a ballad 
ready, and the streets resound with the chorus till the 
offender feels his insignificance, and is glad to retreat. 

These ballads are often sung for money, and often for 
amusement; and though the higher classes would not 
be willing to be found listening to them, yet, in the dark 
days of the famine, when but now and then a solitary 
song was heard upon the streets, they were spoken of 
with regret. Connaught has always been the theatre 
for much that is poetic, as well as warlike, and the 
people now retain unadulterated the most of the true 
Irish character of any other province; unlettered as some 
of them are, there is a true politeness, which being wholly 
unmixed with affectation in the genuine Connaught- 
man, that whoever reads their early history will find a 
striking resemblance. They are famous for kings and 
chieftains, bards, and poets ; and though the higher 
families are losing that peculiar characteristic of national 
character, as they mingle more with others, yet the pea¬ 
santry are still Connaught peasantry. 

In the county of Mayo, there is a pretty river called 


OF IRELAND. 


179 


Moy, and it runs through a picturesque country, which 
in ancient days was celebrated for kings, and bards, and 
noble families, some traces of which are lingering there 
still. One noble vestige is the family of the O’Dowdas, 
living on an hereditary estate, which was once a place of 
taste and beauty. These O’Dowdas are descendants of 
the principal families of the Hy-Fiachrach race, the 
origin of which is traced to Eachy Moyvane, king of 
Connaught in the year 364. 

These O’Dowdas have been famed for deeds of valour, 
and were an athletic race, many of them of great stature, 
and in 1849, they are not so far degenerated but they 
can exhibit a young O’Dowda of six feet and seven 
inches. When he sits upon a horse, his straight tower¬ 
ing figure might entitle him to a rank among the noble 
Rechabites, were he seated upon an Arabian steed. 

In the year 1666, there was but one of the O’Dowdas 
in existence, viz., David O’Dowda, who married, and in 
the reign of king James II., he had a son, by the name 
of David, who was more than seven feet in height. He 
was an officer in the army, and slain at the famed battle 
of the Boyne. A second son, James, was in the same 
battle, but survived to be killed soon after, in the fatal 
battle of Aughrim. When his body was found, his sword 
was in his hand, and so swollen was the hand from exer¬ 
tion, that the guard of the sword had to be filed off before 
the hand could be disengaged from it. Another son, the 
fourth, was named Dominic ; by him the line was con¬ 
tinued. His eldest son, David, is said by Charles O’Connor 
to have been the head of the O’Dowdas in 1753. Thaddeus, 
the third son of: Dominic, entered the Austrian service, 
married a German lady, had a son named James, after¬ 
wards called the Baron O’Dowda. He, by the death of 
an uncle, fell into the possession of an estate in Ireland, 
and returned to the country ; and finding this Bonny- 
collen in a wild rude state of nature, composed of im¬ 
mense rocks, steep hills, and hideous caverns, without 
roads, he applied himself untiringly to reclaiming the 
land, and soon made a coach-road to and from Ballina 
and Castlene, but did not succeed to a long enjoyment 


t 


180 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


of these improvements, for he unfortunately lived in ’98, 
and was executed at Killala. Too great a friend to his 
suffering country, he was implicated as a rebel. He was 
godson of the Emperor Joseph, and father of the present 
Thaddeus O’Dowda, now living on the estate.” 

This Thaddeus is a man of the real amiable Irish 
stamp, conciliating in his manners, kind in disposition, 
cheerful without vulgarity, and dignified without aus¬ 
terity or hauteur, maintaining a mild dignity, which 
emanates entirely from instinct. The wife of this man 
was the daughter of Charles White of Dublin, merchant; 
and they have five sons and four daughters now living. 
They are the last of the kings of Connaught. 

These facts are gathered from the Archaeological Society 
formed in Dublin, in 1840, for the purpose of searching 
the genealogies, tribes, and customs of Hy-Fiachrach, or 
the O’Dowdas country, taken from the book of Lucan, 
in the library of the Royal Irish Academy, and from 
Duald MacFirbris, in the library of Lord Roden. 

O’Dugan, in his topographical poem, mentions the 
river Rodba, and the river Codnach, as the extent of 
the O’Dowdas’ territory. Their possessions were much 
celebrated, and many a peom is sung of their beauty 
and extent. Among the poems is one thus— 

“ From the Codnach of gentle flood, 

The mark of the boundary, 

Is the boundary of the Rodba to be mentioned. 

It is a beauteous fertile territory, 

There is not a finer region than this, 

In O’Dowda’s inheritance. 

Fourteen kings of the family 
Obtained the chief sway of the province. 

By deeds of puissance and battle, 

Of the illustrious race of Fiachra.” 

The fertility of the land is then spoken of, the 
bovine crop—meaning the grazing field—where the 
cattle were put to graze, which must have been very 
numerous. In the days of these kings it was a law that 
every Irish brughaidh, or farmer, should keep a hundred 
of each kind of domestic animals, cows, horses, pigs, 
sheep, goats, hens, cats, dogs, geese, &c., &c., beside a 


OF IRELAND. 


181 


hundred labourers, stated in the heabhor-buidhe, in the 
Library of Trinity College. 

The beauty and fertility of the Barony of Tyrawley, 
which implies the province lying along the Moy, is fre¬ 
quently mentioned by the Irish bards, as well as the 
hospitality of its inhabitants. The abundance of its 
mead is often poetically sung, which the farmers poured 
profusely to their guests. 

Sir Bichard Musgrave says, that the O’Dowdas 
counted twenty-five castles on their extensive estates, 
many remains of which are now in existence, and they 
have a burying-place appropriated to them in the Abbey 
of Moyne, where are the bones of one of the family 
measuring more than seven feet. Surely the peasants 
have some tangible tradition or cause for saying, that 
giants once lived on these coasts. 

The power of these famed O’Dowdas was checked by 
the O’Connors, Burkes and Barretts, somewhere about 
the years 1580 and 1600, but the kingship died in 
their hands — they were the “ last of the race of the 
lings of Connaught But the stone or stones now 
remain where the kings were acknowledged, and the 
beautiful Abbey, where lie the bones of these mighty 
ones, is a living proof that great and ambitious people 
once inhabited that province. 

The finish of the Abbey is a work of exquisite taste 
and great strength ; its proud arches have withstood the 
ravages of centuries, and there they are entire, thirty- 
eight in number, with beautifully cut pillars between 
every two, making nineteen pillars, ranged in the in¬ 
terior of the building, forming a long corridor in the 
centre, turning at right angles at the top and bottom, 
reaching the wall of the Abbey on one side, forming a 
kind of room which might serve for dining. The arches 
unite the Norman and Gothic. The walls of the build¬ 
ing are of hewn-stone, and so well fitted that they re¬ 
mind one of the stones fitted in the mountains of 
Lebanon for the temple of Solomon. The ascent to the 
top of the tower is by one hundred and twelve steps, 
all in good repair, and rendered easy of mounting by a 


182 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


support on the right like a banister, made of polished 
stone. The view from the top is picturesque, and it may 
be easily imagined that the ancient bards from the top of 
this, viewing the graceful winding of the river Moyne, 
and the fertile meadows upon its banks, might well sing 
—“ It is a beauteous fruitful territory.” The sea and 
bay where the French landed, when they enjoyed the 
u races of Castlebar,” in pursuit, are here seen from this 
tower. 

In one corner of the building is a place consecrated 
to the family of O’Dowdas, and here lies the bones of 
many generations sleeping together. Here we found 
an oven in good order, of brick, and large as well as 
small apartments, and the beauty is much heightened 
by a little clear running stream murmuring through a 
narrow enclosure, which by a work of art had been turned 
from a brook, and where we were told that the friars 
caught fish, when swimming through. 

Rosserk is a small, beautiful abbey, in the vicinity of 
the abbey of Moyne, it is in good repair, and is 500 
years old, and is four miles from Ballina. It is called 
Rosserk, from Searc the daughter of Cuibri, who blessed 
the village, which is at the mouth of the river Moy. 
This ruin stands alone near the margin of the sea, and 
taken as a whole is an object of interest. The arches of 
the doors and windows are of tasteful gothic finish, and 
the roofs or ceiling of some parts of it of excellent 
workmanship, some with pointed stone, and some with 
large flat stones ; but the singularity of the whole is 
the steeple, which is placed upon four arches rising 
from the roof of the building; these arches are very 
beautiful, but prevent the erection of steps to ascend the 
steeple. The burying place was not crowded with stones 
and strewed with skulls as is Moyne, not a monument 
could be deciphered, nor was there the appearance of 
any new-made grave. This building may outlive many 
a modern edifice. It would seem that the invaders of 
this beautiful part of the country, had more mercy upon 
these two abbeys than on others in the island, or their 
strength must have been unyielding. It is said that 


OF IRELAND. 


183 


the cement which was used in the castles and abbeys of 
olden time was more indestructible than any now made : 
the art of making it is lost. The beautiful river Moyne, 
or “ river of gentle flood,” rises in the barony of Leymy, 
in the county of Sligo, flows through the barony of 
Gallen, in Mayo, and empties into the bay of Killala, 
near Ballina. 

The O’Dowdas are connected with another ancient 
family, by the name of Kelly : Peter Kelly married the 
daughter of Thaddeus O’Dowda, and now resides in 
Ballina. This family can trace a long pedigree, and 
like the river Niger in Africa, whose source has always 
been disputed, this family seems almost like Melchisedek, 
having no “beginning of days.” O’Halloran says, they 
were hereditary treasurers to the kings of Connaught; 
how long they might have figured before them is not 
exactly known. They possessed a territory of 200 
square miles, extending through the county of Galway, 
and southern part of Roscommon. It takes the name 
of Hymaine, meaning territory, Hy like 0 implying 
some remarkable progenitor ; the 0 was taken from the 
name by the request of Queen Elizabeth, who thought 
the prefix 0 tended to keep up the clanship in Ireland, 
and to foster disaffection towards England. . 

Many most interesting records are retained of this 
family, and one which stands pre-eminent, without one 
solitary exception, is hospitality, such as making feasts, 
of long continuance, giving to the poor, &c., and ot 
this trait the branch now remaining are remarkable 
specimens. 

Many of the Kellys have held high stations in the 
army, and acquired great celebrity for their valour : 
sometimes they are found sitting in the house of parlia¬ 
ment, sometimes leading armies, sometimes as chiefs, 
sometimes bearing the title of count, and in all these 
situations their name stands untarnished, so says history. 

It is said of one that he never refused the countenance 
of any man, and was the most eminent man.in Ire¬ 
land for his hospitality, and of another , that his death 
was the cause of lamentation to all Hymania, and of 


184 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


many that they were eminent for building castles. Many 
of their ruins now remain. Castle Kelly, now the pro¬ 
perty of Denis H. Kelly, Esq., is in the county of Galway. 
Sir Richard Cox, in his History of Ireland, calls Hy- 
mania the O’Kellys country, adding, “the O’Kellys were 
kings of the countryand Camden says, treating of 
Roscommon, “ More southward lies Athlone, the barony 
of the O’Kellys. Crest: on a wreath, an Enfield statant, 
vert., with a bushy tail turned over the back.” This 
fabulous animal is said to have risen from the sea, at 
the battle of ClentorfF, to protect the body of O’Kelly 
from the Danes. He is said “ to have fallen in that battle 
like a wolf, fighting the Danes.” 

The Hymanians had distinct privileges granted them : 
the third part of the province of Connaught is to be 
their patrimonial estate for ever; the third part of any 
treasure found buried in the earth; the third part of 
any treasure thrown by the sea into the harbours of 
Connaught is to be given to that tribe, that is, the 
articles of commerce washed ashore after shipwrecks ; 
and last of all, the third part of the eric for every man 
that is killed, is to be given to the family of the arch- 
kiDg. Donnell O'Gallagher states in his will, made in 
the year 1626, “that the eric for killing a man in Irish 
was 168 cows: that “ the bastings of spring and autumn,” 
that is, that none of the tribes should be compelled to 
go out to war in seed-time or harvest; and if they 
voluntarily did so, they should have liberty to return 
home at the expiration of six weeks. Another privi¬ 
lege the Hymanians possessed was, that no man of the 
province could witness against them ; but another Hy- 
manian is to bear witness. Another law was, “ However 
great may be the accusation brought against them by 
dishonest people, only one man, or one witness, is re¬ 
quired to deny it, or prove it against the other party.” 
This law savours much of that in the United States, which 
admits no evidence of a negro against a white man. 

St. Bridget had the baptismals of all the Hymanians, 
and though the children might not be brought to the 
church, her Com horba had the power of collecting the 


OF IRELAND. 


185 


baptismal penny from the tribes ; these pennies were 
divided into three parts, one part to herselfj one part to 
the old church of Drum, and the other to the parish of 
St. Peter, lying along the Shannon. A syrea-vall ony tha, 
or scruple, the value of three old Irish pennies, was to be 
paid to the com horba for every Hymanian that was 
anointed, or prepared for death during illness. The 
crozier of St. Grellan he graciously bestowed on the 
Hymanians. (A relic used as a standard to be raised 
before them in battles, to insure success.) This favour 
was granted under the condition that tribute should be 
paid, a scruple out of every town for the first-born of 
every family baptized by him. The tribute was every 
firstling pig and firstling lamb, and the firstling fowl. 
He adds, “ While they remain obedient to my will, they 
shall be victorious in every battle.” “ Refuse not to pay 
tribute to me, and you shall receive as I have promised.” 
“ That race shall not be subdued so long as they carry 
my crozier. v 

“The territory called O’Kellys country, is divided into 
five principal barronyes; that is to witte, Athlone, Kill— 
connell, Teaquine, Killyone, and Maycornane, all which 
contain 665^ quarters of land, each at 120 acres.” 

These laws and special favours bestowed on the Kellys, 
show that their pretensions to family distinction are 
not false, and that these distinctions were granted for 
the merit which they were acknowledged to possess, 
viz., their valour and hospitality, two important charac¬ 
teristics in the Milesian race : a “ good soldier, and open 
hand and heart,” are special requirements to make a 
nobleman, in the estimation of the Irishman. 

There are various branches of the Kelly family in 
Ireland ; one is now living in Castlebar, a nephew of 
Peter Kelly of Ballina; a sister of Peter is likewise a 
Kelly in the hospitality of her board, she resides on the 
bold sea-coast of Mayo, called “ Old Head,” where the 
proud ocean is dashing its waves against the defying 
cliffs, and the majestic Croagh Patrick on the right, 
has from the creation been looking down unmoved upon 
his waters. Here the contemplative lover of nature 


186 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


need never tire—need never look for new objects of 
beauty and grandeur to feed the mind. The inde¬ 
scribable clouds of a western Ireland sky, and the sun 
rising or setting when he breaks through them, are pro¬ 
bably unearthly, when compared with any other part of 
the globe. When old Croagh Patrick puts on his 
“ night cap,” (as the children call it,) which he generally 
always remembers to do before sunsetting, the white fog 
which surrounds the top, if the sun happily looks out 
upon it, is penetrated with rays of such beauty and 
richness, such a soft blending of every colour, that each 
is lost in each, and you can make no choice in lights or 
shades, they are all swimming in the eye in one mellow 
picture ; and when twilight gradually lets down her soft 
drapery, you dissolve and float away with the dying rays, 
as if commingled with the essence of light, shade, and 
mist, and are soaring away to be lost in the infinity of 
space that surrounds you. 

Here on these bold, yet beautiful sea-coasts of the 
west, where persecution has driven them, have the Irish 
of Connaught caught that healthy buoyancy of mind 
and body which they peculiarly possess, and here may 
the O’Dowdas and Kellys delight to say, “Ye are my 
mountains and crags—my ocean—my clouds—my soft 
mists, and noisy tempests and storms. I w r ould not 
exchange ye for the ‘ sweet vale of Ovoca,’ or the rich 
foliage of the northern meadows and hills of the boasted 
County of Down.” Here is God’s own school—here is 
patriarchal training —here are geometrical lines, drawn 
by the finger of the Almighty, and here is a book written, 
'printed and stereotyped by his own hand. Here the 
prophet speaks again, “ As the morning spread upon 
the mountains.” As the first rays of light open in the 
east, and “ spread” upon the mountains—here you see 
the figure in all its beauty, and you hear again the 
Almighty challenging Job—“ Hast thou commanded 
the morning since thy days, and caused the day-spring 
to know his place.” Weil might Ossian sing here, if he 
climbed these heathy mountains and slept in these sea¬ 
girt fastnesses, “ 0 lay me, ye that see the light, near 


OF IRELAND. 


187 


some rock of my lulls, let the thick hazels be around.” 
“ The thick hazel ”—Though the mountains of the western 
coast are now void of trees, and covered mostly by the 
purple heath, yet once the oak and hazel were there, as 
Ossian adds, “ Let the rustling oak be near.” The roots 
of the oak are found in many parts at the present day, 
and one of the ancient bards has sung of Erris— 

“ There the kernels of the fragrant hazel nuts 

Not larger were the apples of the apple trees.” 

A great value was set upon the hazel-nut, and in seasons 
of scarcity they were used for food, and the swine were 
fattened upon them. 

These bards, though often fulsome in their praises, 
have left much that explains otherwise inexplicable 
things, in the lingering habits, and the multiplied me¬ 
mentos scattered every where ; and could a patient in¬ 
vestigator of antiquities take Ossian, and, in sunlight 
and moonlight, in tempest and mist, linger among the 
mountains, and in the deep fastnesses and dells of the 
south and west sea-coast, that imaginative, misunder¬ 
stood, fascinating writer, would have many of his sup¬ 
posed highly-wrought figures changed into plain matter 
of fact history. 

A tale is related by one of the bards of the brave 
O’Cuim and his daughter, which becomes doubly in¬ 
teresting when the bard’s allusions are understood. A 
vellum manuscript in the Library of Trinity College, in 
Dublin, happily spreads the picture in an intelligible 
light. 

“ O’Cuim happened to have 

A beautiful marriageable daughter, who was wooed : 

She did not receive a gift of cattle, 

Though she was wooed by chieftains.” 

“ A Gift of Cattle ”—This manuscript states, that pre¬ 
sents of this kind, given by the bridegroom, were of four 
distinct kinds, viz., Slabhra, was a present of live cattle 
and horse bridles ; coibche, in clothes and warriors; the 
tochra, in sheep and swine ; and the Tinnsera, in gold, 


188 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


silver, and copper or brass. The first present of coibche, 
given to each daughter, belonged to the father, and 
Tinnsera meant a bar of gold, weighing three ounces. 
These chieftains, it seems, did not offer these presents, 
and the poem proceeds to state, that there came a king 
into the southern district, who was poetically called “ A 
fishing-rod,” to whom “ every river was known.” This 
king came to the house of O’Cuim, 

“ To get his warlike refection.” 

The custom then was when a king or chief set out on 
a regal visitation, that the sub-chiefs were obliged to 
entertain him and his retinue for a certain time. Some¬ 
times his demands were so exorbitant, that he was 
under the necessity of exacting them by force ; but this 
seldom was the case, unless they were suspected of not 
being the rightful heirs. 

The king, who was called Ruaidhri of the “ rapid 
onsets,” viewed— 

“ The black-haired fair-skinned daughter ; 

In the door of her beauteous Grrianan, 

The steady modest maiden was brightness. 

Ruaidhri of the bright-eye loved 

The splendid comely daughter ; 

Mightily wa3 his attention engaged 

In what became the cause of tears to the goodly mansion.” 

The poet goes and says that the daughter was vio¬ 
lated. O’Cuim slew the king, and early next morning he 
went out to the vigorous Sil Muireadhoig and to the 
MacDermots, but the tribe of O’Cuim submitted them¬ 
selves to the enemy of O’Cuim, and by this lost their 
charter for their tributes. The poet says— 

“ But though the clan of Maoebruanaidh 
Have obtained of them possession, 

To cling to them is not meet for this people — 

Its nut separates from the parent branch.” 

Meaning, poetically, that the tribe of O’Cuim was a nut 
from the branch O’Cuim, and it was not meet for the 
tribe to cling to those who obtained the conquest by 
treachery. 


OF IRELAND. 


189 


SAYINGS OF FITHIL TO LUSSON. 

It seems that the wise men of ancient Ireland had 
some knowledge of physiognomy, and like Solomon of 
old, had their wayward women to vex their “ righteous 
souls” from day to day ; for when the son of Fithil in¬ 
quired, “ What was the best thing to maintain a family V’ 
the answer was, “ A good anvil/’ 

He asked, “ What anvil T 

“ A good wife,” says Fithil. 

“ How shall I know her?” 

“ By her countenance and virtue ; for the small short 
is not to he coveted, though she be fair-haired, nor the 
thick short, nor the long white, nor the swarthy yellow, 
nor the lean black, nor the fair scold, or talkative woman, 
nor she that is fond and jealous, nor the fair-com- 
plexioned, who is ambitious to see and be seen. 

“ What woman shall I take V 

«I know not,” said the father ; “for though the large 
flaxen-haired and the white black-haired be the best, 
but I know no sort fit for a man to trust to, if he wishes 
to live in peace.” 

« What shall I do with them, then T says the son. 

“You shall let them all alone, or take them for good 
or evil, as they may turn out; for, till they are. con¬ 
sumed to ashes, they shall not be free from imperfections.” 

“ Who is the worst of women V* 

“ Beccan.” 

“ What is worse than her Y’ 

“ The man that married her, and took her home to 
his house, to have children by her.” 

“ What can be worse than that man ?” 

“ Their child, for it is impossible that he can be free 
from evil or malice.” 

Thus we find that good men of all ages have been 
driven to their “wit’s end,” to know how to manage to 
their liking these vexatious “ help-meets and not till 
they are “ consumed to ashes” will their foolishness 

depart. 


190 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


CHAPTER XIII. 

DATHI. 


“ "What was she then ?—what is she now ?” 

The history of this king deserves to be recorded, be¬ 
cause he was the last pagan king of Erin. He was the 
son of Fiachra, and succeeded his uncle, Neil of the nine 
Hostages, in the year 405. This was about the time of 
the appearance of St. Patrick in Ireland, who scattered 
paganism by Christianity. 

“ This Dathi fought many battles in defence of Erin, 
and many in Scotland. He then went to the Alps, where 
he found Parmenius, king of Thrace, who had fled there, 
for the love of God, as a pilgrim. He erected a tower 
of sods and stone 60 feet in height, and lived in the 
middle of the tower, 11 feet from the light, and he saw 
not a ray of light from the sun, or any other light. 
Dathi came to this tower. He was called Dathi from his 
expertness; for if there were one hundred persons shoot¬ 
ing arrows or javelins, he would be protected against 
them by the agility of his hands. Dathi’s people saw 
this tower, and demolished it. Dathi was then killed 
by a flash of lightning on the spot.” 

Tradition says, that the son of Dathi took command 
of the men of Erin, and carried the dead body of his 
father with him, and gained nine battles by land, and 
ten by sea, by means of the corpse ; for when his body 
was exhibited, the enemy dispersed. The body was 
carried to Erin, and interred in the cemetery of the kings 
at Creachon. In 1660, MacFirbis writes, “that the 
caerrthe-dheory, red pillar stone, remains as a monu¬ 
ment over his grave to this day. This red stone is now 
there prostrate, having been thrown down by the cattle.” 
How much of this may be fabulous I do not pretend to 
know, but that such a king existed cannot be doubted ; 
for the races and families of kings have been so well pre¬ 
served in Ireland, that, though some exaggeration may, 


OF IRELAND. 


191 


and doubtless is, always attending a description of them, 
yet the substance of the history is correct. 

The specimens of manuscripts now preserved in Trinity 
College, Dublin, and the Museum of the Archaeological 
Society, are so fair and legible, many of them written 
with such care in the Irish language, that one wdio 
understands the tongue may read it without any hesi¬ 
tation, though written many centuries ago. The ink is 
very black and clear, and some of them appear as if but 
lately written. 

A monument standing in Ballina has ever been a 
wonder to all who have seen it, and the peasants call it 
the “ Giant’s Table,” because no one knew its age or 
pedigree ; and not till a member of this Archaeological 
Society visited the West of Ireland, to compare these 
written traditions with what might be the professed 
reality, was this Giant’s Table ever knowm. The de¬ 
scription was so accurate, and the spot so well defined, 
that it became an object of deep interest in itself, beside 
proving the integrity of the manuscript, which was more 
than all.” 


GIANTS TABLE. 

Ardna Maob Hill of the Mado, where four foster 
brothers were interred, who were hanged for killing a 
son of Coghan Benel, by instigation of Guaire Aidhue, 
through envy about the sovereignty. A cromlech now 
called the “ Table of the Giants ** stands over them, and 
it is said to be the only one clearly connected with 
history, that is, where every detail of time and place can 
be indisputably traced. It stands on a beautiful hill, 
on the east side of the river Moy, near Ballina; about 
800 years it must have stood, and will endure no doubt 
to the end of time. It is a large stone like a table, 
thick and square, standing upon three upright stones, 
and must have required immense strength to have 
elevated it. Unlike the position of other elevated stones 
supported by legs, it stands upright ; those supposed to 
be the Druidical altars are on an inclined plain, that 
the blood of the victim might flow off. 


192 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


Doubtless if this earth were turned up, the instrument 
with which the son of Coghan w^as slain would be found, 
with the armour of the four brothers. It is now looked 
upon as too sacred to be molested, both by the scientific 
and peasantry. 

It would be quite superfluous for the purpose of ele¬ 
vating Ireland in the public mind, after having extolled 
her learning, her religion, and her valour, to crown all 
by saying that it was once a land of giants —that her 
men like the renowned giants of old, had bedsteads of 
iron, measuring many cubits, or that their spears were 
like “ weavers beams,” and that six fingers and six toes 
w r ere on each hand and foot. But the armoury and 
bones that have been dug up in that island, testify that 
a race of greater men than noiv inhabit it were there, 
and that the supposed superstition of the incredulous 
peasantry respecting giants, is nothing less than a false 
coin made from a true one. 

In the county of Donegal, near Fermanagh, there is 
a curiosity called the “ Giant’s Grave.” This grave is 
entered by a low aperture, formed by a projecting block 
of stone, resting upon two others, and the cave is now 
blocked up by large stones, covered with weeds and 
brambles, which stones must have fallen from the roof. 
The sides have each one flag-stone, and as there is no 
lime-stone in that place, the people must have had a 
knowledge of mechanics, or else have had giants in those 
days to have elevated and fitted these stones. 

A peasant living near, being asked if he would open 
the grave, refused, “ because some had tried to do so and 
found their feet sticking fast to the spade.” 

There is a tomb of the giant’s armour-bearer on an 
eminence near, which has been opened, and an earthen 
urn containing some ashes, supposed to be the heart, was 
found, and bones of great size. “ The lower jaw-bone 
was quite perfect, and so large that it went with ease 
over the jaws of the biggest headed labourer present.” 

Men of great stature must certainly once have been 
lifting their proud heads over this island. 

In my journeys through the north, which in all made 


OF IRELAND. 


193 


four, new wonders were continually meeting my eye; 
castles of proud strength lifted their half-crumbling 
remains over some cliff or water, and that of Carrick- 
fergus, so well known as the battle-ground of Bruce, 
claims a passing notice, not only for the events which 
passed there, but for its own history, which is left on 
record. 

It was built in honour of King Fergus, who was 
drowned there, and the rock on which it stands is called 
Fergus. It commands a most noble view of the harbour. 
John Be Courcey, in the reign of Henry II., having 
grants given him of all the lands he could conquer in 
Ulster, erected this castle, and it is said to be the noblest 
in all Ireland. The English, French, Scotch, and Irish, 
have in their turn struggled to take and keep possession 
of this stronghold, all in turn have defied the enemy 
through its loopholes, and all in turn have been driven 
from it. 

Here Edward Bruce, in 1315, undertook to take it 
from the English, who promised to surrender at a limited 
time, when Bruce on the day appointed sent his thirty 
Scotchmen to take possession ; the English seized them 
as prisoners, and kept the castle, till reduced at last to 
such hunger, they ate the thirty Scotchmen. The 
French at last had possession, and Carrickfergus now 
looks like a noble monument of greatness, that though 
much mutilated, gives striking marks of her high origin. 

Carrickfergus is the assize town 6f the county of 
Antrim, and if ever stone and mortar were worth fight¬ 
ing for, the castle on this broad bay might claim a right, 
so%old, so strong, with every convenience for killing men 
without being killed. 

In 15G7, George Clarkson thus writes :—“ The build¬ 
ing of the said castle on the south part has three towers, 
the gate-house tower in the middle thereof, which is the 
entry, at a draw-bridge over a dry moat; and in the 
said tower is a prison and porter’s lodge, and over the 
same a fair lodging called the constables lodging, and in 
the courtain between the gate-house and west tower, in 
the corner, being of divers squares called Crady-fergus, 

K 


194 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


is a fair and comely building, a chapel, and divers houses 
of office on the ground and above the great chamber, and 
the lords-lodging, all which is now in quite decay, as well 
as in the coverture, being laid also in timber and glass ; 
and without help and reparation it will soon come to 
utter ruin. 

“ The walls of the town are flanked with seven bas¬ 
tions, and are now in tolerable keeping, and about G feet 
thick, and 18 feet high; and what is peculiar, the cor¬ 
ners of the bastions are of cut free-stone, of a yellowish 
colour, different from any found in the vicinity. There 
are four gates, Glenorvan, Woodbrum, West and Jewry 
Gate ; Glenorvan Gate, and West Gate, were entered by 
draw-bridges. Part of the arch over Glenorvan Gate is 
still to be seen, and the draw-bridge and trench of West 
Gate, were in existence but a few years ago.” 

DUNLTTCE CASTLE. 

On my way alone to the Giant’s Causeway, I passed 
this castle, which, when in its glory was the residence of 
the Earls of Antrim. It is now a noble, crumbling 
ruin, bowing its head in a majesty which bespeaks its 
becoming origin. It stands boldly out on a perpendi¬ 
cular rock, and completely covers the surface, so that 
the walls are built upon the edge of the rock. The 
castle was not high, but contained much room, covering 
entirely the rock, and one room now projects over the 
sea, the rock having crumbled away. The design of the 
building of this is quite ingenious. The rock is united 
to the main land, by a ledge of rock higher than the 
ocean. Two parallel walls, 7 or 8 feet asunder, are 
built, and planks flung across for visitors to walk to 
the castle, when this is effected the planks are removed. 
Thus the castle was always secure from the enemy, and 
was taken, as has been named in the preceding pages, 
by treachery, under the guise of friendship. It is one 
of the most interesting castles, on some accounts, in the 
north, having so much the appearance of unpretending 
defiance, saying rather “ Come and be entertained than 
“ Come and I’ll shoot you.” 


OF IRELAND. 


195 


giant’s causeway. 

This hackneyed curiosity, like the Falls of Niagara, 
has been on the tongue and pen of every traveller for 
centuries; and like Niagara, all attempts at description 
have been faint and generally obscure. I never under¬ 
stood even its outlines from all the historical sketches 
which from childhood had been studied ; and am not 
so vain as to suppose that my pen can present it clearly 
before the reader. “Come and see,” is the invitation 
which every wondering visitor must say. One day and 
a half were passed sitting and walking alone, my medi¬ 
tations interrupted only by occasional salutations of 
“ Cod bless, or God save ye kindly ! ” from the poor 
peasant women who had crossed a precipitous mountain 
by a dangerous sliding footpath, the distance of from 
three to five miles, with baskets to gather sea-weed 
which collects upon the rocks and pillars of the Giant’s 
Causeway, in stormy nights. 

Was Kerry or Connaught worse ? “ The enlightened, 

the fertile, the happy north,” has many a bare foot yet to 
cover, and many an empty stomach to fill, before she 
can sit queen over all the kingdom. But the Causeway. 

Never, never did my mind fall so abruptly from the 
sublime, to the—I would not say ridiculous —but to the 
tame, the flat, as when, through the difficult narrow pass 
which led to it, my eye first greeted, what the peasant 
who had followed me said, “ There, lady, and ye’ll see.” 
“ See what,” in disappointment, I vexingly responded. 
“ The Causeway of the Giant, ma’am.” I had expected 
to see lofty cliffs hanging over the sea, ornamented with 
massive pillars, like organ-pipes, and a frightful path 
for the feet of the giants to pass, with many indescribable 
wonders, and here I was facing an uneven platform of 
basaltic pillars, of more than 30,000 in number, of a 
pentagonal or hexagonal shape, varying from 15 to 20 
feet in height, and from 15 to 26 inches in diameter. 
On these and over these I could and did walk, though 
they were slippery and dangerous. These pillars extend 
along the shore two miles, often interrupted, and some- 

k 2 


196 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


times they extend into the sea, and are lost; very many 
suppose that they are united to the chain of the StafFa, 
in Scotland. No diving-bell has as yet sounded the sea 
between these two antipodes to ascertain whether any 
hidden link connects them in the bottom of old ocean. 

When standing upon what is called the pile of the 
Giant’s Loom, on the opposite side is seen the “ Organ,” 
having the appearance of the pipes of that instrument, 
and between these pipes are cavities which extend into 
the mountains, appearing like caves. 

As you stand with your back to the sea, on the 
eastern side, w r hich you face, there is a great colonnade 
of 36 feet in height, appearing like round pillars hewn 
by the artist. Here, too, are caves, one called “ Port 
Good,” giving a grand echo, resounding to the waves.. 
There is one likewise at Dunkerry, between Port Coon 
and the Bushford Strand, accessible only by the ocean, 
entered between two mural ridges of jet-black rock, and 
a lofty dome, girdled with a green and crimson belt of 
marine plants, 5 or 6 feet in breadth, which entirely 
surrounds it, is spread over the head. The extent of 
the cave is not known ; it narrows so that no boat can 
enter, yet the waves can be heard dashing in deep roar 
at a great distance. 

In no country does the basalt, we are told, present so 
many varied wonders and interesting appearances as in 
Ireland ; they are piles on piles in awful grandeur, in 
some places so regular that they appear as if morticed 
and fitted by the hand of man. A lady who has cut and 
fitted her counterpane of patchwork in five and six sided 
figures can see how a pentagonal and hexagonal figure 
looks, and how snugly it fits, when the corners are 
matched : this is precisely the appearance in form of 
the Giant’s Causeway, as you walk over it, with this ex¬ 
ception only, that though the sides are evenly matched, 
yet the tops of the pillars are of unequal heights. 

For a mile or two, as you go from Port Busby to the 
Causeway, the shore is as white as though covered with 
snow, owing entirely to small round stones, some like 
small bullets, some like peas, and some a little oblong, 


OF IRELAND. 


197 


like tlie white bean, and they give the most cheerful 
aspect to the rugged coast. When the sun shines in full 
splendour, they are too powerful for the eye to rest 
long upon. But the rocky rough land on the right, scat¬ 
tered here and there with a miserable ragged-looking 
peasantry, remind the traveller of Connaught and Kerry, 
that the dwellers there have come out on a tour to see 
the “ Causeway,” or that the northern cabiners are 
“ akin” to the wretched southerners in most of the 
mountainous parts. 

Before reaching the Causeway, a neat hotel greets the 
eye, pleasantly situated on a rising ground, and well 
kept by the accommodating inhabitants, who have con¬ 
siderable company during the year from abroad. 

It has been found that granite is the great bed of 
Ireland, appearing not only inland but on the sea-coast. 
Ochres, fuller’s-earth, and slates are found, the latter in 
great abundance. Marble quarries are found in Kilkenny, 
Carlow, and Connomare, free-stone is also found. Precious 
stones are there, coal mines, copper, and gold beds, and 
what is not on the surface or in the bosom of that ill- 
fated isle : it seems to be a motley panorama, a theatre 
where nature has delighted not only to play her fan¬ 
tastic freaks, but to sow her richest, her choicest gems, 
and where men of all ages, nations, and rank, have 
played their ill-chosen games, and though crying “ sour 
grapes,” yet ever robbing the fruit. 

The artificial curiosities dug from the earth tell more 
its history than its written records, for though these on 
the whole may be substantially true, yet many things may 
be left out and colourings added, but here is naked fact. 

In 1737, a coat of ancient texture, three sacks of nuts, 
iron heads of arms, and wooden bowls, were dug from 
under a moss of 15 feet in depth, this moss possesses 
antiseptic qualities, wood may be wrapped in it and will 
remain for centuries. 

It is a question to be answered, why, as the Irish 
retain such a sacred memory of their dead, they do 
not bury them in the bogs, that their bodies might be 
preserved. There is now in the Archaeological Museum 


198 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


in Dublin, a keg of butter and a piece of cheese, taken 
from a bog, how old none can tell, the butter is light like 
a piece of cork, and void of grease to appearance, but 
when melted is oily, and the cheese emits a pleasant 
smell. Many urns with ashes in them are found, the 
urns are made of clay mingled with blood, which makes 
them very strong. 

OGHAM STONES AND ROUND TOWERS. 

These still remain paradoxical with respect to their 
use, that they exist cannot be disputed, and that the 
ancients designed them for important purposes must be 
acknowledged. The Oghams are thinly scattered in the 
north, but the west and south have them abundantly. 
It has been supposed till of late, that the characters 
upon these stones can never be deciphered, but a few 
have been made out at the south, which go satisfactorily 
to prove, that Ireland was early a colony from the east ; 
and that while a pagan nation, she had the use of 
letters, as the characters on these stones bear the marks 
of Babylonian and Persian origin. Ogham implies secret, 
and the Irish had a mysterious character, which was a 
dart, and the lines on these stones are always straight; 
besides, they are always found in places which are 
unconnected with cemeteries of baptised children, which 
in Ireland is an important item—that some of these are 
used for memorials of the dead, is placed beyond doubt, 
they are found in Baths, which are mounds entered by 
steps through a hole in the top, here are rooms some¬ 
times divided by a partition, and these stones are found 
upright, and bones likewise have been found in one near 
Killarney, explored by “ Mr. Mahony, and afterwards by 
A. Abel, of Cork.” Those which have been interpreted 
are figurative oriental inscriptions for the dead, such as, 
“Beneath this stone is interred Conaf the warlike and 
quick-footed/’ &c., another, “ His foot was that of the 
hound.” As the Druids delighted so much in mystery 
that they never committed anything to writing, but in 
mystical characters, these stones have been attributed 
to them : yet so little for certainty has been traced of 


OF IRELAND. 


199 


their age and sole object, that a decided testimony must 
he left doubtful. 

The Towers have been called everything, therefore the 
right name must unknowingly have been hit upon. 
Fire-worshippers, by some, are supposed to have built 
them, but others call them Church Towers or Watch 
Towers, but how used for either is left quite uncertain, 
though they always stand near churches. Probably 
when the ancient manuscripts shall be better known, it 
will be found that some bard has sung their praises. 
Kocking stones, too, have been objects of marvellous 
curiosity, and they are objects of interest to the less 
superstitious—to see a rock of tons weight trembling 
upon a little pivot, might well make the credulous sup¬ 
pose that it must be ominous. The children of the 
peasantry look upon them with great interest, and con¬ 
sider them as put there “ by the great God” for a special 
purpose. 

In walking over Ireland, if the eye become satiated 
with green fields, sparkling waters, and wooded parks, 
it may exchange them for the purple heath-mountains, 
and the towering eagle-nest—if tired of climbing old 
crumbling castles and church steeples, it may wander 
among the tombs of ivy-covered dilapidated abbeys, and 
read the epitaphs of lords and ladies, bishops and 
priests, who centuries ago, called these lands by their 
own names—and if the wailing for the dead grate too 
mournfully upon the ear, he may turn away and listen 
to the harp, which sweetly lingers in some ancient 
family at the south and west; and in mountain or glen, 
something to please or awaken thought will present itself 
anew in all his wanderings. 

The north is not on every account so connected with 
the romantic as the south and west, it has beauties, and 
it has its deformities : the county of Down, which is 
the picture to which all strangers are turned as the 
fairest model, has something to do, something to correct, 
before all will be right. There I saw luxuriant harvests 
waving in the breeze, for it was drawing near the time 
for the sickle, there I saw the comfortable farm-house) 


200 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


and the more lordly mansion, and there too I entered 
many a floorless cabin, where the poverty-smitten tenants 
told me they had not tasted the “ sup of milk for three 
months”—there too did the labourer say, that his reward 
w r as but eight-pence or ten-pence a day, and the only 
difference perceivable was, that the unemployed labourers 
were not so abundant as at the south. My lodgings were 
as poor and filthy as in the mountains of Connomare, 
whenever I stumbled at night-fall into a cabin wdien no 
inn was near; yet as a whole the county has more com¬ 
forts than most of the neighbouring ones. The vicinity 
of Warren Point wants nothing beautiful in nature or 
rich in cultivation to make it a spot much to be desired, 
and the bold Moron mountains have defied the storms as 
bravely as those of Kerry or Mayo. 

The county of Derry has in some places almost in¬ 
imitable beauties ; around the waters of the Foyle that 
lie along that old famed city, have I lingered when the 
inhabitants were asleep, at the sun-rising, and thought 
that the heavens had been lavish in “ dropping down 
fatness ” upon these pleasant hill sides, and why should 
the cry of want be known here % But here one day taking 
a morning’s walk of seven miles, to a beautiful watering 
place, called Fawn, four little miserably clad girls, with 
sacks upon their arms came up to me, and pleasantly 
giving me the “ God bless ye,” passed on hurriedly. On 
asking where and how far they w r ere walking,—“ To pick 
potatoes ma’am on a bit, ” was the reply. Knowing that 
both a Scotch and Irish “ bit ” w r ere quite indefinite in 
length, again I inquired how many miles. “ Sometimes 
we go four miles, and sometimes we find a field nearer.” 
These fields were such as had been planted the year 
previous, and the potatoes had been dug from them, and 
these poor children were daily sent to glean from the 
ploughed ridges what by chance might have been left, and 
this was all the food they and their families daily had, 
at night when they returned with their sacks. “ Poor 
things,” said a well-dressed gentleman who met me as 
they passed on, “ this is their daily employment till the 
seed is put in, and this is all their support.” 


OF IRELAND. 


201 


This was the beginning of May, 1846, and the famine 
had not yet begun its fearful ravages. The walk would 
have been pleasant indeed, had the people I met looked 
as suitably clad as are the trees and hedgerows of God’s 
clothing. The little town of Fawn was a picturesque 
spot, and the young English widow who kept the parish 
school, said, “ I would not exchange this little place for 
my own country—I like the Irish hospitality, I like the 
Irish heart.” Glad was I to hear this acknowledgment 
from an English tongue. 

The next morning I took a walk in an opposite direc¬ 
tion, to Strabon, and passing a labourer at work with a 
wheel-barrow, I spoke to him : “ Ye must be a stranger,” 
said he, “ ye are so free; no lady here would speak to a 
labouring man like me.” “ From America.” “Ah ! that’s 
the place where the poor get mate, and are kindly trailed, 
and well paid for their work.” I next entered a cabin, 
and saw misery brooding as though it had been her 
settled abode, till despair had fixed her strong talons in 
the heart of the woman abiding there. She was alive 
to all the tender sensibilities of the heart and the deplo¬ 
rable condition in which she was placed. “ You cannot 
sit down ma’am in my dirty cabin, and my heart is so 
proud, I sin. You see me here so wretched, my husband 
is lame, and my parents didn’t do their duty, they never 
sent me to school and I cannot read ; here, in my lonely 
cabin, could I read the word of God, it would be com¬ 
pany —I am a protestant, but cannot go to church for 
want of clothes, and must sit all day without a book.” 
I could not give her any worldly consolation, for she 
said the case of the poor was hopeless. A piece of bread 
was on her cupboard, and she insisted that I should take 
it, for “ the walk under yer fut is long. “ Pray,” she 
said, “ that I may not sin so about my poverty as to 
lose my soul.” 

These isolated specimens are inserted to show that 
poverty in Ireland is the same in its features, and springs 
from the same source, whether in the north or south ; 
and happy would it be that if even the multitudes I 
could quote were but isolated cases, when compared to 

k 3 


202 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


the sum total in the north. But I may be answered 
that I visited the worst places, and sought to do so. I 
visited the poor every where, and sought to do so; but 
if the poor were not every where in my path, why should 
I meet them? Had the poor in the north been like 
angel’s visits, “ Few and far between,” I might have said 
with the Highland Scotch woman, when she was told in 
her mountain glen of the death of Christ and the time 
that it transpired : “It’s so far awa’ and so long gone 
by, that I dinna’ care to ken about it.” 

But what shall be said of poor Donegal 2 She in some 
parts has ever been drinking the cup of sorrow, and the 
last three years she has drained the dregs. Who will 
unblushingly boast of her comforts ? Go, ye "who talk of 
the well-clad and well-fed happy north, into the squalid 
huts of the peasantry there ; see how they sleep, how 
they eat, and how they are clothed. 

The praiseworthy Lord George Hill, might tell a few 
tales of the state of the cabiners, when he turned his 
noble heart towards them ! He has greatly changed the 
condition of his tenants ■ but the task was a mighty one, 
and none but a George Hill could have carried it thus 
far. The pit had been long in digging, and was both 
deep and wide. But we are now approaching the 
famine, and the north and the sonth are to be shaken; 
we shall then no longer hear the “ voice of joy and 
gladness/’ from any of the cabins where the song was 
once heard, desolate as they might previously have been, 
nor shall the sport and glee of children playing in the 
streets be seen and heard, in those dark days of despair : 
nor scarcely the loud wailing over the dead shall be 
raised. This lamentation when performed, as it often 
was before this, in true pathetic , poetic style, is the most 
painful and pleasant, and brings the most touching 
associations that can possibly be conceived; and my 
heart’s sincere desire is, that no false refinement of 
modern education may ever put to the blush this truly 
patriarchal ceremony. It has Bible authority, and is 
an instinct deeply implanted by nature ; and the rebuke 
of an unlettered peasant in the cemetery, where a grave 


OF IRELAND. 


203 


was opened for his brother, was to me a beautiful illus¬ 
tration of the principle. 

He and his sister had seated themselves apart from 
the grave, while the dirt was being put upon the coffi n 
the sister burst forth into loud weeping : a young man 
near, rudely bade her hush her crying, the brother heard 
it. “ Be aisy, let her weep, it’s nature. Bo ye think 
when the blessed Saviour touched the bier of that young 
son of the widow, that the grace of God would put life 
into that dead body if the mother’s cheeks had been dry? ” 

This was emphatically true Irish poetry, flowing spon¬ 
taneously, and from one probably who could neither 
read or write. This was telling the story of the widow 
of Nain, in the most graphic and comprehensive manner. 
Ho circuitous route, but first the fact touching the bier, 
then the grace of God instantly animating the lifeless 
body; and the efficient cause of all this, the state of the 
mother s cheeks. Here were cause and effect, as graphi¬ 
cally described as possibly could be, in a story contain¬ 
ing so much. This, without education and without 
study; and all the lamentations over the dead are 
accompanied with such pithy language, whether praise 
of the departed, or grief at his loss, that every sentence 
is full of instruction. 

“ Ah I the wail of the dead will be soon lifted over yer 
cowld clay,” said a starving half-clad peasant girl to a 
famishing old man, who had crossed from one of the 
bleak islands of the sea, in a stormy wintry day, to pro¬ 
cure a pound of Indian meal. She did not say, as an 
Englishman would probably have said, “ You 11 soon be 
dead and not want any meal.” 

Cambrensis has left a sketch of the ancient usages at 
funerals, which is here copied, likewise one from Adam 
Clarke, both translated from the Irish, which are so 
beautiful that they should be preserved, not only as 
mementos of ancient manners, but as happy specimens 
of nature’s poetry. 

He says: “ They divided their mourners into two 
parts, placing one at the head and the other at the foot 
of the deceased, being dressed in grave-clothes and orna- 


204 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


merited with flowers; the bier is placed on some ele¬ 
vated spot, the bards had previously prepared the 
‘caoinan.’ The chief bard at the head sung the first 
stanza in a low doleful tone, softly accompanied by the 
harp ; at the conclusion, the foot semi-chorus began the 
lamentation, from the final note of the preceding stanza, 
the head semi-chorus answered, and both united in one 
general chorus. Thus alternately were the song and 
chorus continued through the night. The genealogy, 
rank, and possessions, the virtues and vices of the dead 
were rehearsed, and the deceased interrogated, ‘ Why 
did ye die V If married, whether his ‘ wife was faithful 
to him, his sons dutiful, or good hunters or warriors?’ 
If a woman, ‘ whether her daughters were fair or chaste V 
If a young man, ‘ whether he had been crossed in love, 
or -whether the blue-eyed daughters of Erin had treated 
him with scorn?”’ Ac. 

This custom prevailed till within a few years. A 
lady, at whose house I passed some weeks, informed me 
that she once attended where a woman of rank was dead. 
Two keeners, meaning the officiating mourners, were there 
—the first commenced by reciting the virtues of the 
deceased, then her rank and wealth—that the shoes of 
her copple (horse) were of silver—that her neck was 
encircled with a chain of gold—that her fingers sparkled 
with diamonds; but that her husband had been un¬ 
kind—had caused her death by winding her golden hair 
close about her snowy neck, Ac. The second took the 
counterpart, and recited the rank and wealth of the 
husband, shewing that lie too was of noble blood, and 
that all which the first “ keener ” had said of her abuse 
was a lie. All this the husband hears in silence, nor 
would he dare to interfere. 

The following is from Adam Clarke, who translated it 
from ancient Irish :— 

“Lament of Morian Shehone, for Miss Mary Bourke. 
c Silence prevails ; ’tis an awful silence! The voice of 
Mary is heard no longer in the valley! Yes, thou art 
gone, 0 Mary ; but Morian Shehone will raise the song 
of woe, and bewail thy fate! Snow-white was thy 


OF IRELAND. 


205 


virtue—the youths gazed on thee with rapture; and 
old age listened with pleasure to the soft music of thy 
tongue. 

“ Thy beauty was brighter than the sun which shone 
around thee, 0 Mary; but thy sun is set, and has left 
the soul of thy friend in darkness. 

“ Sorrow for thee is dumb save the wailings of Morian 
Shehone ; and grief has not yet tears to shed for Mary ! 

“ I have cried over the rich man ; but when the stone 
was laid upon his grave then my grief was at an end. 
Not so with my heart’s darling—the grave cannot hide 
Mary from the view of Morian Shehone. 

“ I see her in the four corners of her habitation, 
which was once gilded by her presence. 

“ Thou didst not fall off like a withered leaf, which 
hangs trembling and insecure. No, it was a rude blast 
which brought thee to the dust, 0 Mary ! 

“ Hadst thou not friends ! Hadst thou not bread to 
eat, and raiment to put on ? 

“ Hadst thou not youth and beauty, Mary ? 

“ Then mightest not thou been happy. 

“ But the spoiler came and disordered my peace ; the 
grim tyrant has taken away my only support, in Mary. 

“ In thy state of probation thou wert kind-hearted to 
all; and none envied thee thy good fortune. 

“ 0 that the lamentations of thy friends, 0 that the 
burning tears of Morian Shehone would bring back from 
the grave the peerless Mary. 

“ But, alas ! this cannot be! When, twice in every 
year, while the virgins of the valley celebrate the birth 
and death of Mary, under the wide-spreading elm, let 
her spirit hover round them, and teach them to emulate 
her virtues. 

“So falls into silence the lament of Morian Shehone.” 

“ Twice in every year, while the virgins of the valley,” 
&c. This beautiful practice is not entirely lost in the 
west of Ireland. Being one day in a humble grave-yard, 
among the mountains, I saw white strips of paper attached 
to sticks which were placed at the head and feet of here 
and there a grave. I inquired the meaning, a little 


206 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


girl informed me that the u comrades of Mary had come 
and put them there, for she died a twelvemonth since.” 

It is greatly to he regretted that civilized life, as it is 
too falsely called, should suppress these fine feelings of 
the heart. “ Life in Connaught,” Dr. Edgar has wisely 
said, “is not savage, it is polite—eminently polite.” 
And, let it be added, that there pre-eminently is the 
question settled. That man, fresh from the hand of his 
Maker, needs no missionary societies to teach him bene¬ 
volence, nor schools of the polished to teach him gen¬ 
tility ; and it is because these have been so defaced by 
man’s education, that they must be rubbed up and put 
on by artificial training. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

u Thy trade again shall flourish ; 

Thy temples yet shall rise.” 

I have lingered too long in Connaught; in body my 
wanderings are in Antrim, Derry, Armagh, Donegal, Ac. 
More of these hereafter. Belfast and its vicinity has 
much that is interesting, because richly cultivated ; and 
the gentlemens seats, bordering near, retain considerable 
of that old aristocracy which once was its pride. The 
last of the O’Neils, whose family in history are so much 
celebrated, still holds a domain great in extent, and 
much admired for richness and taste. Old Lough Neagh 
has lost none of its majesty by age, having now the 
appearance of the sea, being twenty miles in circumfer¬ 
ence and twelve in breadth, and the country about so 
level, that the opposite shore cannot be seen from any 
part of it. In stormy w r eather it is very boisterous. 
Eight rivers run into this lake, having but one outlet 
at Toom, which, after passing through a small lake, 
forms the river Bann, which empties into the sea, at 
Coleraine. This lake often encroaches upon the land; 
and once it surrounded a church standing near, and 



OF IRELAND. 


207 


drowned many of the inhabitants. Its depth is no¬ 
where greater than eleven fathoms. Considerable trade is 
carried on by canals, which communicate with Newry, 
Belfast, and another, in an easterly direction. 

Here and there are seen bleaching-grounds for the 
Irish linen, which have a most beautiful effect when 
seen at a little distance through the trees. The lively 
colour of the grass and the white strips of linen, like 
snow' which lingers late in the spring upon the meadows, 
not only please the eye, but awaken many associations of 
industry, and what Ireland has been and might still be, 
if only this valuable article of use and trade might be 
allowed to flourish. 

The Irish woman still clings to her spinning-wheel, 
where she can find the material to manufacture, and 
sighs most deeply when she points to days that are past, 
when all day long in every cot and cabin the buzz of 
the wheel and the whiz of the shuttle were heard. 

A correspondence between Mr. Molyneux and Dr. 
Lock, gives some interesting facts how this article of 
manufacture was commenced and finished. Mr. Molyneux 
states that, in 1692, Mons. Du Pin came from England 
to Dublin, and by the king and queen’s letters and 
patents thereon, he set up a royal corporation for carry¬ 
ing on the linen manufacture. It is said that a great 
bustle was made concerning it, and that many of the 
nobility and gentry were admitted, more for their coun¬ 
tenance than for their heads or purses. Meetings were 
held, Du Pin was elected under-governor, and great sums 
advanced, and so much gain was expected that the shares 
rose from £5. to J04O. The work commenced, some 
parcels of cloth were purchased, when a dispute arose 
l)etween the corporation in Ireland and London under¬ 
takers, in which Du Pin was a chief member. The 
dispute caused the w r ork to flag, and the price of shares 
to lower greatly. Previous to this dispute, a few private 
merchants established a manufactory without a patent, 
in Drogheda, which flourished, quite to the annoyance 
of the Dublin corporation, which commenced a quarrel 
with them also, and was terminated by the union of the 


208 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


two parties. Du Pin at last played such tricks, that all 
were discouraged and withdrew. 

The concern was dissolved and left to be carried on by 
such as pleased, from their own private purses, to set up 
looms and bleaching-yards. Many of these w r ere carried 
on in the north of Ireland, and the best of cloth produced. 

The law for encouraging the linen manufacture needs 
an Act of Parliament, obliging all landlords and tenants 
to sow such a certain proportion of their holdings with 
flax, under a great penalty on both on failure; and 
the sheriffs to levy £20. in each of their respective 
counties, to be distributed at the quarter sessions yearly 
to the three persons who should bring in the three best 
webs of linen cloth, of such a length and breadth, ,£10. 
to the first, j£6. to the next, and £4. to the third. 

Excellent cloth was produced throughout the country, 
but in twenty years from passing the Act, all the law 
died, except that of requiring landlords and tenants to 
sow' flax. This law w r as not executed, and the neglect 
became universal, so much so, it is added, that if thorough 
investigation had been made, the forfeiture to the king 
was so secure that all the estates in Ireland would have 
been forfeited to his majesty.—Irish Acts, 17 and 18, 
chap. 7. 

Molyneux continues, that England will not allow us 
to flourish by the woollen trade, they are jealous of any 
rival in this; but in the linen, we in no way interfere 
■with them. The country has good land and water for 
flax and hemp, land is cheaper, food is cheaper, and 
labour is cheaper, with the necessaries for artificers. 

Mr. Locke replies to all this :—“ Private knavery does 
there as well as here destroy all public good w r orks, and 
forbids the hope of any advantages by them, where 
nature plentifully offers, which industry would improve, 
were it but rightly directed and duly cherished.” 

In '97 Molyneux again writes to Mr. Locke: “We 
have framed a bill which is now’ before the council of 
England, for the encouragement of the linen manufac¬ 
tories, and mentions James Hamilton of Tullamore, as a 
chief contriver of the scheme, who requested the opinion 


OF IRELAND. 


209 


of Mr. Locke on the subject; who replied, that gladly 
would he do all in his power to further the object, pro¬ 
mising Molyneux that he would labour in concert with 
him, as readily and carefully, as though they alone were 
to reap the profit. His words are : “ I think it a shame 
that while Ireland is so capable to produce flax and hemp, 
and able to nourish the poor at so cheap a rate, and con¬ 
sequently to have their labour on so easy terms, that so 
much money should go out of the kingdom to enrich 
foreigners, for those materials and the manafactures made 
out of them; when the people of Ireland, by the advantage 
of their soil, situation, and plenty, might have every 
penny of it, if that business were but once put into the 
right way.” 

The sad state of that business now, testifies that it 
never was put in “the right way.” Belfast does a little 
and does it well; the industry of that people has never 
flagged, and a manufactory now there of linen and 
muslins is in a prosperous state. 

ARMAGH. 

This was once the ecclesiastical metropolis of Ireland ; 
and is beautifully situated on or near the river Gallon ; 
and is said to derive its name from Camhuin Macha, 
the royal seed of the kings of Ulster. It was in 445 
that St. Patrick obtained it from Daire, an Irish Prince, 
and built a cathedral, with other religious houses, and 
constituted it the primatial see, and became the first 
Archbishop. He founded a college, and many of the 
nobility flocked to it from all parts of the British isles. 
He built a beautiful temple, which stood for centuries, 
till 836. The Danes and Norwegians ravaged and 
pillaged it, but it was rebuilt by succeeding prelates ; 
and at last a native Chieftain, O’Neil, tumbled it to 
ruins, and pretended to the prelate, who excommunicated 
him, that he burned the cathedral to prevent the English 
troops from polluting its sanctuary, by lodging within 
its walls. O’Neil was butchered in a Scottish camp, 
flung into a pit, where he lay for several days, when 
William Peirs severed the head from the body, and sent 


210 


LIGHTS AXD SHADES 


it, pickled in a pipkin, to the lord deputy, at Drogheda, 
who ordered it to be put on a pole, and placed over the 
castle, in Dublin. Margelson, in 1687, rebuilt the 
cathedral at his own expense, and restored O’Neil’s ruins. 

In 1765, Dr. Robinson, Baron of Rokebury, was ap¬ 
pointed to the primacy of Ireland—a great advocate 
for the established church—and obtained an enactment 
of statutes for the preservation of ecclesiastic buildings, 
by a penal clause concerning dilapidations. This was 
surely a wise enactment, after destroying the abbeys and 
cathedrals of the church of Rome, to build the protestant 
churches on their ruins, and then make a penal law to 
secure them against catholic revenge. 

In 1770, this Baron erected a palace at his own ex¬ 
pense—a noble building of resplendent marble, taken 
from a quarry on the estate. This stately palace was 
surrounded with beautiful appendages : an obelisk on 
u Knox hill,” and a classic temple, and these all over¬ 
shadowed by venerable trees. This prelate undertook 
to improve the ancient cathedral; and Francis Johnson 
built a tower upon the old arches, finishing it with a 
graceful spire and ball, 150 feet from the ground. This 
amiable prelate is dead, and a monument now simply 
tells the stranger that this is the work and this the 
representation of the beneficent man now gone down to 
the dusl. 

In this cathedral is buried the brave Brion Broroim, 
he who was slain at the battle of Glontorf, with many 
of his kindred and dependents. An astronomical ob¬ 
servatory, with an inscription—“ The heavens declare 
the glory of God ’’—was the last work of benevolence 
which this good man performed, but his mantle has 
fallen on others ; a grammar school which he established, 
free to the public, and a grammar school founded and 
endowed by Charles I., are aids sufficient for the acquire¬ 
ment of a good education ; Drelincourt’s charity schools, 
the infirmary, and others of a lesser kind, speak well 
oi the active benevolence of the gentry. The ancient 
grandeur has gone—the relics of churches are faint and 
few—leaving but here and there a vestige of this ancient 


OF IRELAND. 


211 


proud city. The remains of these once flourishing places 
tell their own history, for though there is not an entire 
building left, yet there is not a spot where one once stood, 
but retains some relic to say “ I once ivas and most of 
them say “ I was beautiful , if not grand. The ivy seems 
everywhere to climb and cling to these crumbling walls 
as if to say “ I love you to the last, and will deck you 
with evergreens to cover your wrinkles, and to honour 
your decline.” With all these decayed churches, abbeys 
and castles, some history is connected, which tradition 
has kept and must keep ; for religion and wars, plunder 
and cruelty, have all united to do what they could do to 
leave lasting footsteps of their deeds. 

MAYNOOTH. 

The celebrated Maynooth, has been and still is a 
bone of contention. It has long been connected with 
military history, and now is preparing a name for 
religious history; it stands on a stream, which empties 
into the Liffey, and is about fifteen miles from Dublin ; 
it had a castle, of great strength, and nothing that is 
praiseworthy is recorded of its possessors. 

About the year 1526, this castle, which was considered 
impregnable, was tested. The sixth earl of Kildare was 
the builder; and a contention between him and Ormond 
became so violent that Kildare was called to England, 
to answer an accusation made by Ormond ot favouring his 
cousin Desmond; and though he defended himself nobly 
before the cardinal, Wolsey, yet he was confined within 
the Tower. The consequence was, that Ireland was 
aroused to vengeance ; and the son of Kildare, to whom 
the father had committed the government of Ireland while 
he should be absent, headed the party. Wolsey, who 
desired the extinction of the family, was supposed _ to 
have invented the story that Kildare was dead, which 
influenced the impetuosity of this youth not only to 
war, but to treason. The last hope of Offaley was the 
castle of Maynooth, which he provided well with men, 
for a protracted defence, and placed his own kindred 
and clansmen among them, and waited the appearance 


212 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


of Sir William Brereton before tbe walls. A contemp¬ 
tuous reply was the result of a summons of surrender, and 
fourteen days siege alarmed the assailant; but his fears 
were soon allayed by the perfidy of Christopher Paresse, 
the foster-brother of the young lord, to whom the lord 
had committed the keys of the castle. This unnatural 
wretch conveyed the intelligence to Shefiington, that he 
would put the castle into his hands for a certain sum of 
money and some other stipulations. It was gladly ac¬ 
cepted by Sheffington ; and while he was with his men 
taking possession, Paresse, by a preconcerted plan, got 
the garrison all drunk, gave the signal to the English, 
who scaled the walls without resistance. It w r as rich with 
spoil—the best furnished castle in the kingdom—abun¬ 
dance of cattle, with which Ireland so much abounded. 

The standard of Brereton was planted on the turret; 
and Paresse, buoyant with the expectation of reward, 
presented himself before the lord deputy. The lord 
first remarked that the service he had shown the 
English, in saving so much bloodshed, should be 
remembered; and then inquired w r hat benefits he re¬ 
ceived from Lord Thomas. This unlucky bait caught 
the unwary silly fish. Paresse expatiated on the long 
and unbounded generosity and affection he had received 
from Sir Thomas during his whole life, as a foster 
brother, and as the crowning of the whole, he had been 
entrusted with the keys of the castle—a high trust and 
place of honor. “And how, Paresse,” said the deputy, 
“ could’st thou find in thy heart to betray so kind a 
lord 1” Paresse stood confounded. “ Go,” said the lord 
deputy, to an officer, “ see him paid the price of his 
treachery : and then "without a moment’s delay, see his 
head cut off'.’’ Paresse had the coolness to say, “ Had 1 
known this, your lordship should not have had the castle 
so easily.” A person present exclaimed, “Too late,” 
which expression is a popular saying.—“ Too late, says 
Boyce.” The end of Lord Thomas was a sad one ; 
though defeated, his proud spirit was not tamed, and 
he went on, when his army was too small to fight, he 
continued to pillage; wherever he could find any 


OF IRELAND. 


213 


English he manifested his revenge, till at last he was 
confined in the Tower. We find a letter, written in a 
style which is an interesting specimen of the spelling 
then in vogue, and sufficient proof that his sufferings 
were great. “ I suffer for mony, hosyn, dublet, shoys and 
shyrts while in prison; and so I shuld have done styll 
and now, hut that pore prisoners of their gentylness 
hathe sumtyme gevyn me old hosyn, and shoys, and old 
shyrtes.” Pie expected mercy, but did not find it. Pie 
was executed at Tyburn, with five of his uncles, on his 
way to Windsor. 

The Roman catholics had an Act passed by the Irish 
parliament, in 1795, for the establishment of a college 
there, and here they send their young men to train them 
for the clergy. “The college is near the town, the 
centre was once the residence of the Duke of Leinster s 
agent, and now spacious wings are attached, extending 
the facade to a length of 400 feet, it is three stories 
high besides the attic, and the centre projects 50 feet 
beyond the front line of the wings.’’ The building is 
plain, but convenient, the students have lodging-rooms 
attached to the wings. Private donations and legacies 
have mostly been its support, with small parliamentary 
grants. Parliament has caused much excitement, as has 
been mentioned in the preceding pages, by granting 
more money of late ] maintaining against theii church 
and dissenting opponents, that if liberty of conscience 
be allowed, it would be unchristian to withhold from 
catholics what they allow to protestants. 

The tales of castles shall be terminated by a short 
sketch of Granauile’s, which bear no small part in the 
history of Ireland. 

The life and character of this woman, are masculine 
and revolting. Erom her infancy, it is said, she was pas¬ 
sionately fond of the sea, and accompanied her father m 
his watery excursions, and performed many feats ot 
wonder and daring, by assisting in the plundering of 
vessels. She was coarse in her looks, gigantic in figure, 
and a terror to all foes. Possessing all that ingenious 
tact, which seems to be the prerogative of woman when 


214 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


driven to extremity, she used this ingenuity to wicked 
and dangerous purposes. A castle of her’s I once had 
the privilege of entering, and ascended to the first 
chamber by means of a ladder, and to the banqueting- 
room by stone steps. This castle stands two miles from 
the town of Newport, in Mayo; another is on the island 
of Achill; and a third on the island of Clare, where she 
died. A hole is shown in the wall in the castle at New¬ 
port, through which a cable was drawn, and fastened to 
her bed-post, the other end being attached to one of her 
vessels in the harbour, to warn her w T hen danger was 
approaching. She was the daughter of O’Maley and 
widow of O’Flaherty, who were two Irish chiefs, so 
that she became queen of the west in due time. She 
again married Sir Richard O’Bourke. She did not pat¬ 
tern from her sister in dominion across the channel, 
Elizabeth, who chose to have no partner in her power. 
History says that she once paid a visit to Elizabeth, and 
as dominant and good-managing as this lady might be, 
Granauile was more than a rival. She could neither 
tame this bold Irish queen, or bring her in any way into 
her more refined notions of dress or manner. She per¬ 
sisted in being an Irish queen, and ruling in her own 
Irish way ; comeliness of dress she scouted as feminine 
and quite unbecoming greatness of soul, and as to address 
and manner, she left them to silly girls and old maids. 

Elizabeth though stern in action, could be very 
courteous in manner, and she studied dress with the 
greatest care. These sister-queens make a strange duet 
when side by side, and the English queen was not in 
sadness when Lady Grana took her departure to the 
Emerald Isle. This Queen “ Grana ” would not be 
repulsed with impunity, and in 1575, we are informed 
that she anchored four vessels before Howth castle, near 
Dublin, and besieged it, to avenge the offence of her 
messenger being refused admittance at dinner-time, she 
accomplished all she wished, frightened them into sub¬ 
mission, and made conditions of peace on these terms to 
last for ever, “ That the gates of Howth Castle should 
not be closed at dinner-time.” This treaty it is said has 


OP IRELAND. 


215 


never been violated. She lived to an old age, and died 
unlamented, she was endured , not loved, and her name 
is only mentioned in ridicule by the mountaineers and 
children, who point to the castles of Granauile “ and 
that's the lady marm that kept the country in dread, 
and would frighten the life of ye.” 


PAET THIRD. 


CHAPTER XV. 

“ Afar we stand a gloomy band, 

Our worth, our wants neglected, 

The children in their father land 
Cut off, despised, rejected.” 

Allow me to say to the reader, that the cup I now hold 
in my hand is a “ cup of trembling,” and gladly would 
my sickening heart turn away from its contents, “ but 
for this ‘ cause was I sent/ and the cup which my Father 
has given me shall I not drink it.” Yes, for this cause 
was I sent, for this cause, in the face of all that was 
thought consistency or prudence, unprotected by mortal 
arm or encouraged by mortal support, was I bidden to 
go out, and to go “nothing doubting ” into a strange 
land, and there do what I should be bidden, not knowing 
what that might be nor inquiring wherefore the work 
were laid upon me. 

I came, the island was traversed, stormy days and 
dark nights, filthy cabins and uncomfortable lodging- 
houses were my lot, evil surmises from the proud pro¬ 
fessor, and the cold neglect of many were all alike to me ; 
the “tower” into which I ran was always safe and 
always open, the “ rock ” under which I sheltered was 
indeed “higher than I,” and the tempest passed harm¬ 
lessly by. 




216 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


From June 1844, to December 1846, though I could 
say with the disciples returning from Emmaus, that “my 
heart burned within me” yet with them I must add, my 
“ eyes were holden,” that I had not yet seen the ultimate 
object, nor had the slightest curiosity been awakened as 
to the result of the researches which had been made, 
who would understand or misunderstand, who would 
approve or condemn . Ireland’s pride and Ireland’s 
humility, her wealth and her poverty, her beauty and 
deformity, had all been tested in a degree, and the 
causes of her poverty stood out in such bold relief, that 
no special revelation, either human or divine, was requi¬ 
site to give a solution. 

“ Will not God be avenged on such a nation as this V’ 
was the constant question urging me, and the echo is 
still sounding as the mighty wave is now rolling over the 
proud ones who have “ held the poor in derision,” and 
the only answer is, 11 What will ye do in the end thereof V’ 
what avails the multiplicity of prayers while the poor 
are oppressed, the surplus, the gown, or the robe will 
not hide the stain, the “ leprosy lies deep within.” “ For 
all this his anger is not turned away, but his hand is 
stretched out still.” 

Too long have ye “ dwelt in your ceiled houses,” while 
the poor, who have “ reaped down your fields for nought,” 
have been sitting in their floorless, smoky cabins, on the 
scanty patch where they have been allowed to crouch, 
till your authority should bid them depart, to eat their 
potatoe on some bog or ditch elsewhere. And more 
fearful than all, now that the root on which you have 
fed them for centuries is taken away; famished and 
naked you drive them into the pitiless storm. Ye with¬ 
hold from them labour, and then call them “idle;” ye 
give them w r ork without any just equivalent, and then 
cry out when the scanty food is blasted, “ Improvidence, 
Improvidence .” That had these “ idlers” put by any¬ 
thing for a “ rainy day,” they might have had money to 
have bought bread. That idleness and improvidence, 
(which are generally companions,) are two great evils of 
Ireland, must be acknowledged. The rich are idle from 


OF IRELAND. 


217 


a silly pride and long habits of indulgence, and the poor 
because no man “ hires them.” 

« Would you have us work,” said a shopkeepers wife, 
“when we can get scores of girls, glad to do it, for 10s. 
a quarter 1” Here is one of the sources of evil: the “ ways 
of the household,” which are specially allotted to the 
“ prudent wife,” are made over to the uninterested ser¬ 
vant ; because this poor servant was “glad” to work for 
a little more than nothing. The keys of the house are 
peculiarly the care of the mistress, and with these well- 
pocketed she prevents all inroads into her larder, and 
the servant may eat her potatoe at option, for in but few 
families is she allowed bread and butter or tea. This 
keeping everything locked we are told is to keep servants 
from theft—the surest method of making them thieves. 
Their late hours of rising and of meals, necessarily un¬ 
hinge all that is good in housekeeping, and where all is 
left to servants, economy must come in by-the-by. The 
middle class, such as shopkeepers, good farmers, and 
tradesmen of all kinds, live on a few articles of diet, and 
the mistress seldom taxes her ingenuity to apply the 
useful proverb, “ To make one thing meet another.” 
Bread, butter, tea, and an egg, are the ultimatum of a 
breakfast, at nine, and often ten in the morning, then a 
yawning about, or perhaps a little fancy knitting, till 
lunch, which is a piece of cold meat and bread, and in 
the higher classes wine ; a dinner from four to six, and 
tea often brought on before leaving the table, or in an 
hour after. The dinner is, among farmers and trades¬ 
men, mostly pork, put upon a platter of cabbage with 
potatoes, served in two ways : first brought on in the 
jackets as they are boiled ; next dish, which is the 
dessert in most houses, the potatoes are browned upon a 
gridle, which gives them a good flavour. Bread is 
seldom or never taken with potatoes, and a pudding is 
rarely seen, except on special occasions. Pies are often 
made, but these are the chief commodities, and always 
ended by “hot whiskey punch.” This accompaniment 
is so necessary, that in genteel families a handsome 
copper kettle is kept for the special purpose, which is 


218 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


put upon a frame in the centre of a table. The “ lower 
order,'’ only are teetotalers, because, as the reason is 
often given, “ it was necessary for them, they were so 
ignorant and vulgar.” Now what must be expected 
could the daughters of such a family be? Why the 
exact copy of the mother; the servant must do for her 
what would be for her own health, and what is actually 
her duty to perform. She is sent to school, and goes 
the routine of a genteel education. She can work Berlin 
wool, perhaps read French, and possibly German, play 
the piano, and write a comm on-place letter, in angular 
writing, made on purpose for the ladies ; but with all 
this her mind is not cultivated, her heart is not disci¬ 
plined. She looks pretty, walks genteelly,and talks some¬ 
times quite enchantingly ; but with all these appurte¬ 
nances, the inquiry must and does arise—“ What are you 
good for?” The little common necessary daily duties 
which belong to woman are unheeded ; and when any 
exigencies fall upon her she has no alternative. A mind 
always accustomed to the same routine, and that a fri¬ 
volous one, cannot, when unexpected adversity comes, 
plunge into new difficult duties, and perform them effi¬ 
ciently. If she have always had a dress-maker to fit 
her apparel and a waiting-maid to put it on, how can 
she, should her husband become a bankrupt, be qualified 
to make and repair the garments for herself and children, 
which probably she must do, or her children be in a very 
untidy state. 

Now, as trifling as these things appear to many, yet 
Ireland has suffered, and is still doomed to suffer deeply, 
on these accounts. Many of these genteel ones are 
reduced to the last extremity, the mistresses not being 
able to give even the 10s. per quarter to a servant. She 
knows not how economically to prepare the scanty food 
which her husband may provide; and multitudes of 
this class are either in the walls of the union, or hover¬ 
ing about its precincts. 

When the famine had actually come , and all the 
country was aghast, when supplies from all parts were 
poured in, what was done with these supplies ? Why 


OF IRELAND. 


219 


tlie best that these inefficient housekeepers could do. 
The rice and Indian meal, both of which are excellent 
articles of food, were cooked in such a manner that, in 
most cases, they were actually unhealthy, and in all 
cases unpalatable. So unused were they to the use of 
that common article rice, that they steeped it the night 
before, then poured the water off, without rubbing, and 
for three and four hours they boiled, stirred, and sim¬ 
mered this, till it became a watery jelly, disgusting to 
the eye and unsavoury to the taste, for they never salted 
it, besides unwholesome for the stomachs of those who 
had always used a dry potatoe for food. The poor com¬ 
plained that it made them sick; they were accused of 
being ungrateful, and sometimes told they should not 
have any more; and the difficulty, if possible, was in¬ 
creased, by giving it out uncooked. For the starving 
ones in the towns had no fuel and they could not keep 
up a fire, to stew it for hours, and many of them ate it 
raw, which was certainly better when they had good 
teeth, than cooked in this unsavoury way. 

But the Indian meal! Who shall attempt a descrip¬ 
tion of this frightful formidable ? When it first landed, 
the rich, who had no occasion for using it, hailed it with 
joy, and some actually condescended to say, “ They 
believed they could eat it themselves.'’' But the poor, 
who had not yet slid down the precipice so far as to feel 
that they were actually dying, could be heard on the 
streets, and in the market-place, to interrogate one 
another, “ And have ye seen the yaller Indian, God save 
us awl h By dad and 1 Peel’s brimstone’ has come over 
again, to scrape the maw of every divil on us.” 

The reader must be content to take the famine just as 
I saw it; and though the language may be sometimes 
startling, to refine it by any substitution or seasoning of 
my own invention would be weakening its force, and 
oftentimes frittering away the truth. In justice it 
should be said that they often use the word devil, in a 
quite different meaning from what others do, always 
applying it to a poor, neglected creature, however de¬ 
serving he may be, as well as to those who are wicked. 

l 2 


220 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


Thus they would often say, “ The breath is cowlcl in 
the poor divil’s body, he’ll no more feel the hunger, God 
bless him!” And the yaller Indian was called by all 
manner of epithets, and went through all manner of 
ordeals but the right one. The Indian meal by some 
was stirred in cold water with a stick, then put quite 
dry upon a gridle, it consequently crumbled apart, there 
was no turning it; and one desponding woman came to 
me, saying, “ That the last bit of turf had died on her, 
and not a ha’porth of the yaller Indian would stop with 
its comrade.” Others made what they called “ stir¬ 
about ; ” this was done, too, by first steeping in cold 
water, then pouring it into a pot, and immediately after 
swelling, it became so thick that it could not be stirred, 
neither would it cook in the least. The “ stirabout” 
then became a “ standabout,” and the effect of eating 
this was all but favourable to those who had seldom 
taken farinaceous food. They actually were afraid to 
take it in many cases, the government meal in particular, 
fearing that the “ Inglish intinded to kill them” with 
the “ tarin and scrapin ; ” but when hunger had pro¬ 
gressed a little, these fears subsided, and they cared 
neither what they ate, or who sent it to them. 

Had the women of the higher classes known how to 
prepare these articles in a proper manner, much money 
might have been saved, and many lives rescued, which 
are now lost. 

When the first clamour had a little subsided, there fol¬ 
lowed the recipes for cooking Indian meal. One of 
these, highly celebrated.for a while, was from Italy, and 
called “ Polentia whether spelt correctly the learned 
must decide; but this same Polentia would do for 
gentlemen and ladies too. The recipe cannot precisely be 
given ; but enough to know that it was turned and over¬ 
turned—covered and uncovered—boiled and steamed in 
a pot—and then came out genteelly, in a • becoming 
shape, according to the form of the pot used. Now 
this was often on the tables of the gentry, for the recipe 
and meal were from Italy; the poor would only hear of 
this at a distance—the cooking they could never attain. 


OF IRELAND. 


221 


Next came American recipes: these, with all due credence, 
were accepted as the one thing needful, for they pos¬ 
sessed these redeeming qualities :—first, they were from 
America , the land which they loved, for many of their 
“ kin” were there ; next, that though they thought that 
nobody but negroes ate it—yet negroes lived on that 
lood ; and “sure the Americans would’nt hurt em.” 

These recipes were prepared in due form, and made 
up with suets, fats, sweets, and spices, so that the Laird 
John Russell himself could “ateern.” A great and 
grand meeting of lords and nobility was held, called 
by the poor, the “yaller Indin maitin and a bona 
fide sanction put on to the Indian meal cake. Here 
again was a difficulty—the meal was for the hungry; 
■W here could they procure spices, sweets, and fats for 
such delicacies %—and as they thought that these were 
necessary to make it safe to eat, then their fears were 
awakened anew. But a few weeks adjusted all these 
difficulties, for when the number of the slain had in¬ 
creased in every parish, all murmuring of the quality of 
food ceased—they suffered in uncomplaining silence. 

It was on the evening of December 7th, when about 
stepping into the train, at Kingstown, for Dublin, I heard 
a policeman relating to a bystander a case of famine at 
the south. The potatoe, I knew, was partly destroyed ; 
but never thought that actual famine would be the 
result. The facts were so appalling, that had they not 
come from a policeman, who, it should be said, are in 
general men of veracity, my mind would have doubted ; 
and when he added that “ I got this information from a 
friend who was present in the court, and who wrote the 
circumstances to me,” all queries were removed. 

A man had died from hunger, and his widow had 
gone into the ploughed field of her landlord to try to 
pick a few potatoes in the ridges which might be remain¬ 
ing since the harvest; she found a few—the landlord 
saw her—sent a magistrate to the cabin, who found 
three children in a state of starvation, and nothing in 
the cabin but the pot, which was over the fire. He de¬ 
manded of her to show him the potatoes—she hesitated ; 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


222 


lie inquired what she had in the pot—she was silent; he 
looked in, and saw a dog, with the handful of potatoes 
she had gathered from the field. The sight of the 
wretched cabin, and still more, the despairing looks of 
the poor silent mother and the famished children, 
crouched in fear in a dark corner, so touched the heart 
of the magistrate, that he took the pot from the fire, 
bade the woman to follow him, and they went to the 
court-room together. He presented the pot, containing 
the dog and the handful of potatoes, to the astonished 
judge. He called the woman—interrogated her kindly. 
She told him they sat in their desolate cabin two entire 
days, without eating, before she killed the half-famished 
dog; that she did not think she was stealing, to glean 
after the harvest was gathered. The judge gave her 
three pounds from his own purse ; told her when she 
had used that to come again to him. 

This was a compassionate judge,—and would to God 
Ireland could boast of many such. 

I heard that story, heart-rending as it was, and soon 
found that it was but a prelude to facts of daily, yes, 
hourly occurrence, still more appalling. The work of 
death now commenced; the volcano, over which I felt that 
Ireland was walking, had burst, though its appearance 
was wholly different from anything I had ever conceived; 
a famine was always in Ireland, in a certain degree ; and 
so common were beggars, and so many were always but 
just struggling for life, that not until thousands w r ere re¬ 
duced to the like condition of the woman last mentioned, 
did those, who had never begged, make their wants 
known. They picked over and picked out their blackened 
potatoes, and even ate the decayed ones, till many were 
made sick, before the real state of the country was known; 
and when it fell, it fell like an avalanche, sweeping at 
once the entire land. No parish need be anxious for 
neighbouring ones—each had enough under his own eye, 
and at his own door, to drain all resources, and keep 
alive his sympathy. It w r as some months before the rich 
really believed that the poor were not making false 
pretences; for at such a distance had they ever kept 


OF IRELAND. 


223 


themselves from the “ lower order,” who were all “ dirty 
and lazythat many of them had never realized that 
four millions of people were subsisting entirely on the 
potatoe, and that another million ate them six days out 
of seven, entirely ; they did not realize that these “ lazy 
ones ” had worked six or eight months in the year for 
eight-pence and ten-pence, but more for sixpence, and 
even three-pence in the southern parts, and the other 
four months been “ idle” because “ no man had hired 
them f they did not realize that the disgusting rags 
with which these “ lazy” ones disgraced their very gates, 
and shocked all decency, were the rags which they had 
contributed to provide ; and such were often heard to say 
that this judgment was what they might expect, as a 
reward for their “ religion and idleness.” But the wave 
rolled on; the slain were multiplied; the dead by the 
way-side, and the more revolting sights of families 
found in the darkest corner of a cabin, in one putrid 
mass, where, in many cases, the cabin was tumbled down 
upon them to give them a burial, was somewhat con¬ 
vincing, even to those who had doubted much from the 
beginning. 

There were some peculiarities in this famine which 
history has not recorded in any other. It may be 
scrupled whether any were heard to say that they 
did not deserve it—that they had not been such sin¬ 
ners above all others, that they must suffer so much— 
and so little plundering was never known in any 
famine as this, scarcely ever was a bread shop disturbed, 
though the poor creatures have been found dead under 
its window, in sight of it; the old proverb, that “ hunger 
will break through a stone wall,” was never exemplified 
during the famine; some carts, laden with meal, have 
been pillaged, and some boats have been robbed, but 
these were not common occurrences; occasionally, in the 
cities, would a man throw a stone at a street lamp, or do 
some other trifling mischief, always in presence of a 
policeman, that he might be put in jail, where the law 
must feed him. This was certainly an alternative for a 
starving man not so much to be censured as admired. 


224 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


Let it be stated that these men had applied for work in 
vain. I will descend to particulars; and state what my 
eyes have seen and my ears heard, and be answerable 
for what shall be stated. 

The first starving person that I saw was a few days 
after the story of the woman and dog had been re¬ 
lated. A servant in the house where I was stopping, at 
Kingstown, said that the milk woman wished me to see 
a man near by, that was in a state of actual starvation ; 
and he was going out to attempt to work on the Queen’s 
highway; a little labour was beginning opposite the 
house, and fifteen-pence a-day stimulated this poor man, 
who had seven to support, his rent to pay, and fuel to 
buy. He had been sick with fever ; the clothes of his 
family, that would fetch any price, had been pawned or 
sold, and all were starving together. He staggered with 
his spade to the work ; the overseer objected; but he 
entreated to be allowed to try. The servant went out and 
asked him to step into the kitchen ; and, reader, if you 
never have seen a starving human being, may you never ! 
In my childhood I had been frighted with the stories of 
ghosts, and had seen actual skeletons; but imagination 
had come short of the sight of this man. And here, to 
those who have never watched the progress of protracted 
hunger, it might be proper to say, that persons will live 
for months, and pass through different stages, and life 
will struggle on to maintain her lawful hold, if occa¬ 
sional scanty supplies are given, till the walking skeleton 
becomes in a state of inanity—he sees you not, he heeds 
you not, neither does he beg. The first stage is some¬ 
what clamorous—will not easily be put off; the next is 
patient, passive stupidity; and the last is idiocy. In 
the second stage, they will stand at a window for hours, 
without asking charity, giving a vacant stare, and not 
until peremptorily driven away will they move. In the 
last state, the head bends forward, and they walk with 
long strides, and pass you unheedingly. The man 
before-mentioned was emaciated to the last degree ; he 
was tall, his eyes prominent, his skin shrivelled, his 
manner cringing and childlike; and the impression then 


OF IRELAND. 


225 


and there made never has nor ever can be effaced; it 
was the first, and the beginning of these dreadful days 
yet in reserve. He had a breakfast, and was told to 
come in at four and get his dinner. The family were 
from home ; the servant had an Irish heart, consequently 
my endeavours were all seconded. Often has she taken 
the loaf allowed for her board-wages, (that is, so much 
allowed weekly for food,) and sliced nearly the whole 
away—denying herself, for the suffering around her. It 
must be mentioned that labourers for the public, on 
roads, seldom or never ate more than twice a day, at 
ten and four; their food was the potatoe and oatmeal 
stirabout, and buttermilk, the luxury which was seldom 
enjoyed. This man was fed on Indian meal, gruel, 
buttermilk or new milk and bread in the morning; 
stirabout, buttermilk and bread, at four. Workmen 
are not paid at night on the public works, they must wait 
a week ; and if they commence labour in a [state of 
hunger, they often die before the week expires; many 
have been carried home to their wretched cabins, some 
dead and others dying, who had fallen down with the 
spade in their hands. The next day after this wretched 
man was fed, another, in like condition, at work in the 
same place* was called in and fed; he afterwards died, 
when the labour was finished, and he could get no more 
work. The first man gradually gained strength, and 
all for him was encouraging; when my purse became 
low—so many had been fed at the door that a pot was 
kept continually boiling, from seven in the morning till 
seven at night; Indian meal was then dear ; the Ameri¬ 
cans had not sent their supplies; and much did my 
heart shrink at the thought that my means must be 
exhausted. 

Let me here speak of the virtues of Indian meal; 
though always having been accustomed to it, more or 
less, not till December, 1846, in the famine of Ireland, 
did 1 know its value. It was made into gruel, boiled 
till it became a jelly ; and once a day from twenty-five 
to thirty were fed—some who walked miles to get 
it; and every one who had this privilege recovered, 

l 3 


226 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


without tasting anything but that, once a day—they 
always took it till they wanted no more; and this too 
without bread. One old man daily walked three miles, 
on his staff, for this, and he grew cheerful; always 
most courteously thanking me, saying, “ It nourishes my 
ould heart, so that it keeps me warm all the night.” 

I had told these two labourers that when they found the 
gate locked they must know that I had no more to give 
them, and they must go home. The sad hour arrived ; 
the overseer sent me word that he thanked me for feed¬ 
ing them so long; they must otherwise have died at 
their work. The gate was shut, and long and tedious 
were the two next days. One child of the poor man 
died, and he buried it in the morning before light, be¬ 
cause if he took an hour from labour he would be dis¬ 
missed. When the poor creatures that had daily been 
fed with the gruel came, and were told there was no more 
for them, I felt that I had sealed their doom. They 
turned away, blessing me again and again, but “ we must 
die of the hunger, God be praised.” 

I would not say that I actually murmured, but the 
question did arise, “ Why was I brought to see a famine, 
and be the humble instrument of saving some few alive, 
and then see these few die, because I had no more to 
give them V’ 

Two days and nights dragged on. News were con¬ 
stantly arriving of the fearful state of the people, and the 
spectres that had been before my eyes constantly haunted 
me. My bedroom overlooked the burying-ground. I 
could fancy, as I often arose to look into it, that some 
haggard father was bringing a dead child, lashed to his 
back, and laying him on some tombstone as had been 
done, and leaving it to the mercy of whoever might find 
it a grave ! 

I was sitting in solitude, alone, at eleven o’clock, when 
the man of the house unexpectedly arrived. He had a 
parcel * in that parcel there was money from New York, 
and that money was for me ! 

No being, either Christian or pagan, if he never saw a 
famine, nor possesses a feeling heart, can understand 


OF IRELAND. 


227 


what I then felt. I adored that watchful Hand that had 
so strangely led and upheld me in Ireland ; and now, 
above all and over all, when my heart was sinking in the 
deepest despondency, when no way of escape appeared, 
this heavenly boon was sent ! The night was spent in 
adoration and praise, longing for the day, when I might 
again hang over the “ blessed pot,” as the Irish called it. 
I lay below on a sofa, and saw no tombstones that night. 

The morning came—the pot was over the fire. As 
soon as shops were opened, meal, bread, and milk were 
purchased. The man of the house went early to his 
business in Dublin. The gate was unlocked—the break¬ 
fast was prepared. The quantity was well nigh doubled, 
though enough had always been provided before. The 
sight of the man was more than I wished to abide; he 
was again sinking—had taken nothing but a “sup,” as 
he termed it, of some meagre slop but once in the day, 
because his children would all die if he took it from 
them. The other soon followed; and while they were 
taking their breakfast, I was reading from New York 
the result of a meeting there in behalf of the Irish. This 
awakened gratitude towards my country unknown before; 
and now should I not be unmindful of the Hand that 
had led me through this wilderness thus far, and in 
every emergency carried me almost miraculously through, 
what I am about to record of the few following months, 
so far as self is concerned, should be withheld :— 

That day my mind was most active, devising how the 
greatest good might be effected, by the little God had 
entrusted to me. The Indian meal, when cooked in a 
suitable manner, was now becoming a great favourite ; 
this I knew how to do, and determined to use the money 
for this object, always cooking it myself. When this 
was adjusted in my mind, the remainder of the day was 
devoted to writing letters to America, mostly for the two. 
objects of thanking them for what they had done, and 
giving them, from eye-witness, a little account of the 
famine. In this the desire, and even the thought, was en¬ 
tirely withheld of receiving any thing myself to give, 
acting entirely as a passive instrument, moving, because 


228 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


moved upon. Here afterwards was the wisdom of Him 
who sees not as man seeth peculiarly manifest; for had 
I that day, by the parcel put into my hands from New 
York, been in possession of a hundred pounds, the day 
would have been spent in going into the cabins of the 
starving, and distributing to the needy—the money would 
have soon been expended, and then no more means would 
have been in my power to do good. But my weakness 
was God’s strength, my poverty his riches; and as He 
had shown me all the journey through that my depen¬ 
dence should be entirely on Him, so now, more than 
ever, it was to be made manifest. The letters crossed 
the ocean, found the way to the hands and hearts of 
those to whom they were sent, and when, in the multi¬ 
tude of other thoughts and cares, they were by the writer 
forgotten as a past dream, they were returned embodied 
in a printed parcel, accompanied with donations of meal, 
money, and clothing; and this, like the other, reached 
me when all means were exhausted. 

When the rumour of a famine had become authenti¬ 
cated in Dublin, Joseph Bewley, a Friend, possessing 
both a warm heart and full purse, (which do not always 
go together) put in operation a soup shop, which fed 
many hundreds, twice a day. This soup was of the best 
quality, the best meat, peas, oatmeal, &c,; and when 
applications became so numerous that a greater demand 
was requisite, and funds failing, mention was made to 
this benevolent man that the quantity of meat must be 
reduced, his answer was, that not one iota should be 
taken off, but more added, if even it must be done en¬ 
tirely at his own expense. It shall, he added, be made 
rich and nourishing, as well as palatable. The poor 
who could, were required to pay half-price for a ticket; 
and the benevolent people purchased tickets, by the 
quantity, and gave to the poor. The regulation of 
this soup establishment was a pattern worthy of imita¬ 
tion. The neatness and order of the shop ; the comely 
attired Quaker matrons, and their daughters, with their 
white sleeves drawn over their tidy-clad arms—their 
white aprons and caps, all moving in that quiet harmony 


OF IRELAND. 


229 


so peculiar to that people; and there too at seven in the 
morning, and again at mid-day. All this beauty and 
finish contrasted with the woebegone, emaciated, filthy, 
ragged beings that stood, in their turn, before them, was 
a sight, at which angels, if they could weep, might weep, 
and might rejoice too. Often have I stood, in painful 
admiration, to see the two extremes of degradation and 
elevation, comfort and misery, cleanliness and filth, 
in these two classes, made alike in God’s image, but 
thrown into different circumstances, developing two 
such wide and strange opposites. 

My task was a different one—operating individually. 
I took my own time and way—as woman is wont to do, 
when at her own option—and before the supplies, which 
afterwards came through the letters mentioned, I marked 
out a path, which was pursued during that winter, until 
July, when I left for the North. A basket of good di¬ 
mension was provided, sufficient to contain three loaves, 
of the largest made bread; this was cut in slices, and 
at eight o’clock I set off. The poor had watched the 
“ American lady,” and were always on the spot, ready 
for an attack, when I went out j and the most efficient 
method of stopping their importunities was bread. No 
sooner well upon the street, than the army commenced 
rallying; and no one, perhaps, that winter, was so regu¬ 
larly guarded as was this basket and its owner. A slice 
was given to each, till it was all exhausted ; while in des¬ 
peration, at times, lest I might be overpowered—not by 
violence, but by number, I hurried on, sometimes actually 
running to my place of destination, the hungry ones, men, 
women, and children, who had not received the slice, in 
pursuit—till I rushed into some shop-door or house, for 
protection, till the troop should retire; sometimes the 
stay would be long and tedious, and oftimes they must be 
driven back by force. Cook Street, a place devoted almost 
entirely to making coffins, and is well known by the 
name of Coffin Street, was the field of my winter’s labour. 
This was chosen for its extreme poverty, being the seat 
of misery refined; and here no lady of “ delicate foot 
would like to venture j and beside, I saw that a little 


230 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


thrown over a wide surface was throwing all away, and 
no benefit that was lasting would ensue. Ten pounds 
divided among a hundred, would not keep one from 
starvation many days; hut applied to twenty, econo¬ 
mically, might save those twenty till more efficient 
means might he taken. So much a day was allowed to 
each family, according to their number,—always cooking 
it myself, in their cabins, till they could and did do it 
prudently themselves. The turf was provided and the 
rent paid weekly, which must be done, or, in many cases, 
turning upon the street was the consequence; for it is no 
more than justice to observe, that there are some kind 
slaveholders in the United States, and there are some 
kind landlords in Ireland ; but in too many cases both 
are synonymous terms, so far as power may be equal. 

One of these miserable families was that of a widow : 
I found her creeping upon the street, one cold night, 
when snow was upon the ground; her pitiful posture, 
bent over, leaning upon two sticks, with a little boy and 
girl behind her crying with the cold, induced me to in¬ 
quire, and I found that she was actually lame, her legs 
much swollen, and her story proved to be a true one; she 
had been turned from the hospital as a hopeless case, 
and a poor sick starving friend had taken her in, and 
she had crawled out with a few boxes of matches, to see 
if she could sell them, for she told me she could not yet 
bring herself to beg; she could work, and was willing to, 
could she get knitting or sewfing. I inquired her number. 
“ I will not deny it again,” she replied, “ I did so to a 
lady, soon after I came out of the hospital, for I was 
ashamed to be found in such a dreadful place, by a lady; 
but I have been so punished for that lie, that I will not 
do it again.” Giving her a few pence, meaning to take her 
by surprise, if I found her at all, an indirect promise was 
made to call at some future day. At ten the next morning 
my way was made into that fearful street, and still more 
fearful alley, which led to the cheerless abode I entered. 

The reader may be informed that in the wealthy beau¬ 
tiful city of Dublin, which can boast some of the finest 
architecture on earth, there are in retired streets and 


OF IRELAND. 


231 


dark alleys, some of the most forbidding, most uncom¬ 
fortable abodes, that can be found in the wildest bogs 
of that wretched country. Finding my way through 
darkness and filth, a sight opened upon me, which, speak¬ 
ing moderately, was startling. When I had recovered a 
little, I saw on my right hand the miserable woman 
before-named, sitting in a dark corner on a little damp 
straw, which poorly defended her from the wet and 
muddy ground-floor she was occupying. The two ragged 
hungry children were at her feet, on the other side of the 
empty grate (for there was not a spark of fire) sat the kind 
woman who had taken her in, on the same foundation 
of straw and mud, with her back against the wall. She 
was without a dress—she had pawned her last to pay her 
rent; her husband likewise had pawned his coat for the 
same purpose. He was lying upon the straw, with a 
fragment of a cotton shawl about him, for he had no 

o w 

shirt. They were all silent, and for a while I was mute. 
The woman first mentioned broke the pause, by saying, 
“ This, I believe, is the kind lady I met last night; you 
have found the way to our dark place, and I am sorry 
we cannot ask you to sit down.” There was not even a 
stool in the room. The young woman had been sick for 
weeks, and was now only able to sit up a little; but 
having neither food, fuel, or covering, nothing but death 
stared them in the face ; and the most affecting part of 
the whole to me was, the simple statement of the widow, 
who said in the most resigned manner, “ We have been 
talking, Mary and I, this morning, and counting off our 
days; we could not expect any relief, for I could not go 
out again, and she could not, and the farthest that the good 
God will give us on earth cannot be more than fourteen 
days” The children, may be, she added, God would let 
her take with her, for they must soon starve if left. This 
had been a cool calculation made from the appearance of 
the present condition, and without the least murmuring 
they were bringing their minds to their circumstances. 
“ You are willing to live longer,” I said ; “ If the good 
God wills it,” was the answer; “ but we cannot see how.” 
They did live. Daily did, I go and cook their food, or 


232 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


see it cooked, and daily did they improve; and in a few 
weeks many an apronful of shavings and blocks were 
brought to me from the coffin shops, by the young 
woman who was sitting almost naked on the straw. They 
both were good expert knitters and good sempstresses, 
and my garments, which were approaching to a sisterhood 
with many of the going-down genteel ones, were soon put 
in tidy repair by this young woman. Often late in the 
evening would I hear a soft footstep on the stairs, fol¬ 
lowed by a gentle tap, and the unassuming Mary would 
enter, with her bountiful supply of fire kindling, and 
when she was told that less would do very well, and she 
should keep more for herself; “ I can do with little, and 
you would not like to go to the shop for any.” She 
watched my wardrobe, kept everything in the best repair, 
and studied my comfort first, before she seemed to know 
that she needed any. I had saved her life, she said, 
and that was more than all she could do for me ; and 
the day that I sailed from Dublin to England, as I was 
hurrying along the street, some one caught me by my 
dress, and turning about, Mary stood before me, whom I 
had not seen for months, having been absent in the 
mountains. She had a basket on her arm, was comfort¬ 
ably clad, said she was selling fruit and vegetables, and 
doing well; the other was still with her in ill health, but 
not suffering for food. “ Farewell, Mary, we shall meet 
no more on earth; may God fit us both for a better 
world.” “Shall I never see you again ; God be praised 
that he sent you to us.” 

The man whom I found on the highway at Kingstown, 
having heard that I was going from Ireland, walked seven 
Irish miles that day, to see and thank me, and leave his 
blessing. I was out, and regretted much for his sake as 
■well as mine that he was disappointed. These testimo¬ 
nials were more grateful to me than would have been a 
donation of plate from the government. They were God's 
testimonials, the offerings of the poor, and that heart is 
not to be envied that does not know their blessing. 

Another feeble dying woman I found upon the street, 
one rainy day, and she had reached a state of half- 


OF IRELAND. 


233 


idiocy; and for two years she was fed and partly clothed, 
whether I was in Dublin or not; yet, though she had 
a tolerable supply of food, her mind never rallied; yet 
she always knew and acknowledged, even to a weakness, 
her benefactress. She never has yet been made in the 
least to rely on herself; what she is bidden to do is done 
like a child, and then she is satisfied. 

These few cases are given as specimens, not wishing 
to be tedious with such narrations, only to show the 
character of the famine, and its effects in general on the 
sufferers, with whom I was conversant. The distribu¬ 
tion of the bread in the street was continued, not even 
Sabbaths excepted ; my basket was often taken near the 
chapel-door, and left in some house till I came out. So 
pressing at last was the crowd, that I dare not go into 
a shop to take out my purse to buy the most trifling 
article, and a bread-shop above all was avoided. There 
was no fear of violence, but the dreadful importuning, 
falling upon their knees, clasping their emaciated hands, 
and their glaring eyes fixed upon me, were quite too 
much. Sometimes I endeavoured to steal into a shop in 
the evening unperceived, but never succeeded. Hunger 
in its incipient stages, never sleeps, never neglects its 
watch, but continues sharpening the inventive faculties, 
till, like the drunkard’s thirst, intrigue and dissimula¬ 
tion give startling proof of the varied materials which 
compose the entire man. From the first look that was 
presented me by the starving-man in Kingstown, a com¬ 
mon desire for food never returned, so that through the 
winter, but little was necessary for my wants. Two-pence 
halfpenny w r orth of cocoa for a week, three-pence half¬ 
penny for milk, three-pence for sugar, and fourteen- 
pence for bread; making in all twenty-three-pence, was 
the most ever used ; but in a few weeks, necessity com¬ 
pelled a reducing the expense, from which not the least 
inconvenience was felt. My practice was to pay the 
mistress for lodgings weekly, in advance, that she might 
feel no uneasiness; and after doing this one Monday 
morning, my purse promptly told me that Saturday 
night would leave my poor pensioners, one in particular, 


234 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


without a shelter, if the usual quantity of food were 
taken. Something must be done : money was exhausted, 
and from no human source could I that week look for 
more. In a paper I had a pound of Indian meal—the 
cocoa, milk and sugar were stopped, the meal made into 
gruel, twenty-three pence was reduced to fourteen ; and 
when the meal was expended, a penny roll was taken 
into my muff as the day’s excursion commenced, and 
eaten when and where opportunity best presented, and 
inclination most strongly prompted. The widow’s rent 
was paid, no inconvenience felt, and before the next 
demand was made, an unexpected call for a few books 
which I had published in Scotland, put me in possession 
of a little more, so that the “ cruse of oil” never failed. 
The pensioners were fed in the meantime from their own 
industry, for the women had been provided w T ith knit¬ 
ting, which though poorly paid, yet it kept them from 
actual hunger. Another expedient I never omitted when 
available. The people of Dublin, among the comfort¬ 
able classes, whatever hospitality they might manifest 
towards guests and visitors, had never troubled them¬ 
selves by looking into the real home wants of the suffer¬ 
ing poor. Enough they thought that societies of all 
kinds abounded, and a poor-house besides, were claims 
upon their purses to a full equivalent for all their 
consciences required, and to visit them was quite un¬ 
lady-like , if not dangerous. To many of these I had 
access as a matter of curiosity, to hear from me the tales 
of starvation, which they were now to have dealt out un¬ 
sparingly ; and so kind were the most of them that the 
interview generally ended by an invitation to eat, which 
was never refused when needed, and the meal thus saved 
was always given to the hungry. These people would not 
have given a shilling in money, and many and many a meal 
of gruel was provided from these hap-hazard lunches, 
through that sad winter; and, more than this, a kind 
woman who is now in her grave, and with whom I had 
once lodged, gave me an invitation, which was, to continue 
during my labours in Dublin, of coming to dine with 
her every Sabbath; and then a bountiful, well-cooked 


OF IRELAND. 


235 


dinner of vegetables and a pudding were always provided. 
These kind sabbath dinners were all I tasted that winter j 
two meals a day for the other six, made me quite satis¬ 
fied. Something better was now in reserve. 

The Central Committee of the Society of Friends, 
which was organized in November, 1846, had effectually 
and untiringly begun, and carried on one of the most 
extensive and noble plans that probably had ever been 
known under any circumstances of distress, by private 
individuals. And their first circular should be stereo¬ 
typed and kept, that future generations may read. 0n<£ 
or two sentences only are here recorded, as specimens of 
the spirit which moved this faithful body of men . 

“ Many of us partake largely of the Lord’s outward 
o-ifts; and it is surely incumbent on us to be prompt in 
manifesting our sense of His unmerited bounty, by offices 
of Christian kindness to our suffering fellow-creatures. 
May we prove ourselves faithful stewards of the substance 

entrusted to us. 

“ Let none presume to think that the summons, to 
deep and serious thoughtfulness, and to a close searching 
of heart, does not extend to him. Which of us has 
ever experienced what it is to want food ? May none 
of our hearts be lifted up by these things, or betrayed 
into forgetfulness of our dependent condition, and of our 
utter unworthiness of the least of the Lord s mercies; 
for surely to each of us belongs the humbling inquiry, 

4 Who maketh thee to differ from another, and what 
hast thou that thou didst not receive V” 

Other committees soon co-operated with this ; Water¬ 
ford, Limerick, Cork, Youghal, <fcc., were moved to like 
exertions. Nor did these exertions rest on the British 

side of the Atlantic. _ _ 

In March, 1847, an extract from the Central Belie! 
Committee, says; In consequence of a letter addressed 
by Jacob Harvey of New York, to Thomas P. Cope, a 
meeting was held in Mulberry Street House, committees 
appointed to make collections, &c., and what was the 
result. The report says, 44 Considering the short time 
which had elapsed at the period of our latest accounts. 


23G 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


since sufficient information of the distress of Ireland had 
reached the American public; that from the great ex¬ 
tent of the mission no opportunity had then been afforded 
for the full development of public feeling; that the 
supplies of money and food already received and on the 
way, are but the first-fruits of their liberality; the 
movement must be regarded as one of the most remark¬ 
able manifestations of national sympathy on record.’^. 
And in another report, after two years and a half 
labour, this same Committee say, that referring to 
their circular, “ it was responded to, not merely by those 
to whom it was addressed ; but by many unconnected 
with our religious societies in these countries, and also 
by the citizens of the United States, to an extent and 
with a munificence unparalleled in the history of bene¬ 
volent exertions. The contributions confided to us, in 
money, food, and clothing, amounted to about ,£200,000. 
of which more than half was sent from America.” The 
Committee add, that “ the contributions entrusted to 
them were but a small proportion of the whole expendi¬ 
ture for the relief of the country.” 

America sent much money, and many ship-loads of 
provisions, which did not pass through the hands of this 
committee. The British Relief Association dispensed 
about £400,000. The distribution by other relief asso¬ 
ciations may be estimated at fully £200,000. ; and the 
collections by local committees in Ireland exceeded 
£300,000. The aggregate of the whole, taking remit¬ 
tances from emigrants, private benevolence, &c., was not 
less than one million and a half sterling. Government 
relief, ten millions sterling. 

To return to individual exertion. The New York 
people opened a fund ; appointed a Treasurer ; and de¬ 
voted the avails to me, to be used at my discretion ; and 
sent these donations, at first, through the channel of 
the Central Committee, in Dublin. This favour to me 
was more than can be described or imagined by any 
who never witnessed what I had, and who had never 
been placed in the same condition to act. I now as¬ 
cended an eminence which was a lofty one; and on 


OP IRELAND. 


237 


which I hope I may never again stand—such a mission, 
however honourable it may be to be able to rescue our 
fellow-creatures from death, has an unnatural cause for 
its claim; and when famine is allowed to progress till 
the slain are multiplied, it says one of two things :— 
First, that the promise of a “seed-time and harvest” 
did not embrace a sufficiency of food for every mouth in 
the world ; or else that man has not done his duty in 
securing that food. Now God never deals vaguely with 
man, his promises are clear and definite, his demands 
rational and peremptory :—“ Do this and live ; neglect 
it, and die.” When He said “seed-time and harvest,” 
He said, by that, food shall always be sufficient for man : 
and never was a famine on earth, in any part, when 
there was not an abundance in some part, to make up 
all the deficiency ; and if man is not warned by some 
dreamer, like Pharoah, of a seven years’ famine, to 
secure a wise Joseph, to provide in advance for a seven 
years’ destitution ; yet if he is a wise husbandman, a 
good steward, a discerner of the signs of the times— 
when skies drop down “ extra fatness,” and the harvests 
are doubly laden with rich fruit, he hesitates not in be¬ 
lieving that tithes and offerings will be called for some¬ 
where ,> into the storehouse of the Lord, proportionable to 
the seventh day’s manna that was rained from the heavens, 
to be gathered on the sixth. 

Thus Ireland’s famine was a marked one, so far as 
man was concerned ; and God is slandered, where it is 
called an unavoidable dispensation of His wise provi¬ 
dence, to which we should all humbly bow, as a chastise¬ 
ment which could not be avoided. As well might we 
say to the staggering inebriate, that he must be patient 
under a wise dispensation of Providence—that the Lord 
does not willingly afflict him, &c., as to say that the 
starving thousands in Ireland must submit patiently, 
because God, for wise purposes, had turned from all 
natural laws to send this affliction upon them; for in the 
first place, the potatoe had been, everywhere in Ireland, 
an indirect curse, and in many parts a direct one; for 
centuries the poor had been oppressed and degraded by 


238 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


this root—for oppression is always degradation; they 
had not the privilege even of the beasts of the desert 
in variety; for the brutes, where instinct or pleasure 
demand, can select their food; the bird, if it cannot find 
a corn, may select a seed; the lion, if he cannot find 
opportunity, to gratify his cannibal propensities, may 
secure a sheep or calf; the cat, if the mouse be not in 
reach of her stealthy step, may secure the unwary bird, 
if the wing of the bird be too lofty she may put her 
quick paw and fasten the nails into the darting fish ; 
the horse or cow, if grass from the meadow or hay from 
the stack be wanting, the granary supplies the defici¬ 
ency ; but the Irish must masticate thepotatoe 365 days 
in the year, either boiled or roasted, with or without 
salt; and if his churlish, dainty, grumbling palate, should 
show r any symptoms of relishing food, like other men, 
he is told that, lazy, dirty, and savage as he is, the potatoe 
is a boon which is quite too good for him. Now when 
God gave the “ herb bearing seed, and the tree bearing 
fruit,” to man, He said not that one portion of mankind 
shall be confined to a single root; and though his 
patience long continued to see him fed on this root, by 
his masters, yet, in his own time, He “ came out of his 
place,” and with one breath blackened and blasted this 
instrument of torture and cruelty, and though puny 
man has attempted to resuscitate and bring it to its 
old use, this breath blows upon it, and it shrinks back 
into its insignificance, abashed and deadened, as if cog¬ 
nizant of the degrading use to which it had been applied. 
But the care of God, at the same time that this fatal 
work was done, had before filled the granaries of the 
husbandman, at least over the civilized world, to an 
overflowing abundance; and while He had been doing 
this He also prepared the hearts of these husbandmen, 
all over the christian world, to rise in one simultaneous 
mass, and pour into this famished land the fruits of 
their harvests ; so that—shall it be said,—for future ge¬ 
nerations to read that it rotted in the harbours while the 
dying were falling in the streets, for want of it ? Yes, un¬ 
hesitatingly may it be said, that there was not a week 


OF IRELAND. 


239 


during that famine, but there was sufficient food for the 
wants of that week, and more than sufficient. Was 
there then a “God’s famine” in Ireland, in 1846-7-8-9, 
and so on? No ! it is all mockery to call it so, and 
mockery which the Almighty will expose, before man 
will believe, and be humbled as he ought to be. It is 
therefore I say, may I never be on such an eminence 
again, from such a cause, from a cause which, if its 
immediate breaking forth could not have been foreseen 
or prevented, its sad effects might have been met with¬ 
out the loss of life. 

The principle of throwing away life to-day, lest means 
to protect it to-morrow might be lessened, was fully and 
practically carried on and carried out. 


CHAPTER XVI. 

“ Man’s a king,—his throne is Duty 
Since his work on earth began.” 

The responsibility of a stewardship is a great one, and 
doubly so where the results are connected with life as 
well as property; and where the last is in the hand 
of the steward, who at option, may save or destroy 
the former. Had a commission been entrusted to me, 
under certain restrictions, and a salary paid, on condition 
of a right performance of duty, the path would have 
been open and plain; but working for no reward, 
under no restrictions but conscience, in the midst of 
the “ valley and shadow of death,” emphatically , where 
some would stumble and fall, and where all had an 
equal claim upon the bounties which were to be applied, 
was a fearful task. This task must be entered upon, 
and the first duty, after securing a room for a deposit, 
was to find suitable objects—by this is implied objects 
which were not only needy, but which, in the jumble of 
so much machinery as was attached to so many different 
Associations, were overlooked. These Associations had 



240 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


now multiplied to such an extent, that the time in 
getting the varied instruments into harmonious action 
was considerable; many died in sight of boilers preparing 
to feed the hungry, or when prepared, they must wait 
till the “ Relieving Officer had time to enter their names 
on the books.” 

I stopped for no books, knowing that a faithful un¬ 
erring record would be kept in the council chamber above, 
where the rich and the poor would soon meet before the 
Maker of them all; and my only prayer was, that 
when that book should be opened, I should not find 
there noted the name of any who had gone before as 
a witness of my neglect. 

Cook Street furnished a tolerable supply; and the 
remainder I found scattered in desolate places ; some 
who had despaired of relief, because having neither 
courage nor strength, to make their way through the 
tumultuous revolting crowds, which congregated about 
every place of public relief, submitted to their fate with 
a patient coolness and apparent resignation, which I 
have never been able to comprehend. One woman I 
found sitting in her chamber, looking respectably clean ; 
upon inquiry into her real condition, the facts prove 
to be these :—she had heard of the Government Relief, 
and had exhausted the last farthing for food, and when 
hunger became pressing, she sought her way timidly to the 
Relieving Officer’s station, and made her wants known ; 
she was then suffering extremely, but she was sent away 
with the promise that he would call in the morning and 
make inquiries, and if he found her worthy she should 
have her name entered into the “ books she went to 
bed supperless, and arose the next morning, waiting for 
the officer— he came not; she feared if she should go out 
he would call, and then she should lose her opportunity; 
that night she went to her bed without the least relief; 
the next day she did the same ; the third morning I 
found her in that state of patient suffering, with her 
mind fully made up to die, without making any further 
effort. 

These facts are recorded to show the incomprehensible 


OF IRELAND. 


241 


features of that famine; and to inquire of the Christian, 
the philosopher, and the physiologist, what is the nature 
of that kind of suffering, which could bring the mind 
into such a cool passive frame, especially to operate so 
upon a nation naturally impetuous in their passions, 
and keenly alive to the tenderest sensibilities of the 
heart. Was it their hereditary suffering that had become 
a second nature—was it the peculiarity belonging to 
hunger alone—or was it their religion, that had produced 
that submissiveness which overcame the natural propen¬ 
sities, and brought them into passive obedience, when 
the hand of affliction pressed them sore ? 

My first donation was Indian meal, with a few pounds 
of money. A store-room was made of my lodging apart¬ 
ment, which was three floors from the ground; the 
carpet was removed j the meal which had been put in 
sacks, by the order of government, was getting heated, 
and much of it must be emptied. The government had, 
for reasons which are not fully understood by all, sent 
to Ireland sacks which were sold for half-a-crown each— 
the meal was taken from the barrels and deposited in 
them, which answered two purposes, it made sale for 
thousands of sacks, at a tolerable profit, and was an 
effectual method of heating the meal, which soon gathered 
dampness, then became mouldy and wholly unfit for use. 
The hungry, in some cases, took it gladly, the conse¬ 
quences in many instances were fatal, producing a state 
of the system often beyond the power of nature or medi¬ 
cine to cure. 

The meal sent from New York was of the best kind, 
the hull being taken off, and the meal kiln-dried, which, 
had it been left in barrels, would have remained for a 
year or more in good order. This, the government, being 
unacquainted with the nature of the article, probably 
did not understand. If the inquiry be made—Why did 
the government interfere with donations sent to the 
“Dublin Central Committee,” as donations ?—Theanswer 
can only be, that they must have acted upon one of two 
principles ; that as they paid the freight of the American 
grants, they had a right to use a little dictation in the 

M 


242 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


arrangement, in order to secure a partial remuneration ; 
or, they must have acted upon the principle, that their 
interference would forward the exertions making in 
behalf of their subjects. Is the inquiry made what 
became of the barrels, why every commercial man knows 
the use of these articles in trade, and every housekeeper 
who has ever had a broken one, knows the convenience 
of making a rapid fire to hasten her dinner. What 
became of.all the tens of thousands of sacks, or in other 
words, who paid for them? For one, I must answer, 
that when mine were delivered through the “ Central 
Committee,” a promise was made, that the money paid 
for them should be refunded, when the sacks were re¬ 
turned. This was immediately done; but the money 
was withheld with no other explanation, but that I must 
sell meal enough to pay for them. This meal was the 
property of the poor, and a property most sacred, because 
life was suspended on it, and the meal was sent in the 
best manner to preserve it, and taking it out injured it 
most seriously, and sometimes fatally, and the article 
taken from their hungry mouths to pay for sacks, 
was, besides robbing them of their own, deducting so 
much from life. I could not, I dare not, and I did not 
comply. 

This circumstance is important, not only because it 
involves a great principle, but as furnishing a solution 
so far as it goes, why the poor were so little benefited by 
the bounties sent them from abroad. The hungry, it 
should be borne in mind, for whom these donations were 
sent, had no control of what was virtually their own 
exclusively, but must be'content to receive it by proxy, 
in great or small parcels, in a good or bad state, at the 
dispenser’s option ; consequently, they did not always 
have what belonged to them, and if the meal and rice 
paid for the sacks, as mine were required to do, a great 
deduction must be made from the original amount. I 
once heard a woman observe, whose husband had large 
donations entrusted to him, that they had <£200. worth 
of sacks, which must be paid for out of the meal, as they 
could not do it. These two facts are the only tangible 


OF IRELAND. 


243 


ones on this subject, which came under my cogni¬ 
zance, and I name them, not to expose faults which 
should be concealed, nor to find fault for the gratifica¬ 
tion of doing so ; but reading in a book often quoted for 
its veracity, that “ on the side of the oppressor there was 
power, but they had no comforter,” conscience com¬ 
pels me to throw into the scale every particle of truth 
which belongs to the poor, who have been so much 
accused of ingratitude towards their benefactors. They 
never were ungrateful to their real benefactors; but 
second-handed ones, like me, who had power entrusted, 
did not all of them act wisely, nor for the best good of 
the poor at all times. Some of this was ignorance; some 
who did not know how to prepare the food sent it to them 
in the most economical way; and others, who had never 
been hungry, took care to guard their own stomachs in 
good time against its attacks, which necessarily required 
much free feeding and drinking to keep up health and 
strength for the arduous work; consequently all this 
caused delay, and twenty-four, forty-eight, and often 
more hours, were the starving obliged to wait till their 
time should come to be served. 

My labours were constant, but not complex, having 
arranged that eight in the morning must be the time 
for giving the donations, and that a delay till nine on the 
part of the beneficiaries, would debar them the twenty- 
four hours’ supply. They had all been lectured and 
duly trained previously, that if any appeared dirty, or 
brought a fresh beneficiary without my knowledge, they 
should forfeit their own donations. The requirement 
of eight o’clock attendance was necessary, because my 
visits in Cook Street were requisite through the day, and 
I was obliged to rise at four in the morning to copy 
manuscript and correct proof sheets till seven ; then my 
penny roll was taken, and all put in due readiness for 
the distribution. The rooms below me were occupied as 
offices, which were opened at nine, and the appearance of 
bare feet, tatters, and sacks of meal, would not be at all 
in unison with the refinement of gentlemen; and above 
all it was done so early, that the train of beggars, which 


244 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


would have been drawn at any other hour, was avoided. 
Thus, every hour was time occupied, without the least 
self-denial. The greatest suffering was, during the few 
hours devoted to sleep, when I was occasionally awaked 
by hearing some moan of distress under my window. 
My lodging-places in Ireland had been sometimes of 
quite a peculiar kind; and here, in the beautiful city of 
Dublin, in a tall house overlooking the Liffey, was my 
proud heritage—my bed was a short sofa, or apology for 
one, placed in the middle of barrels of meal, spread upon 
blankets on the floor, and one crazy old chair, which 
served to make out my lodging at night, and provide a 
seat while copying manuscripts; an old deal table, with 
a New York Tribune for a table cloth, made up the 
furniture of that happy room. But this bliss was limited, 
every day the quantity of meal lessened, and my purse 
grew lighter. The poor looked on, and said, “ Praise 
God, we shall all be destrawed /’ but God was better to 
them than their fears—they did not die. 

Mine was more than a happy lot. Never before in all 
my privations in Ireland, had I tested the value of 
being early trained under the discipline of a rational 
mother, who fitted me when a child for the exigencies 
of life; who not only by precept taught me, that in 
going through the journey of this world, I should meet 
with rough roads and stormy weather, and not always 
have a covered carriage ; that sometimes I should have 
a hot supper, sometimes a cold one—sometimes a welcome 
greeting, and sometimes a repulsive one; but she had 
instructed me too, by precept and example, that my 
hands were to be employed in all that was useful, and 
that idleness was both disgraceful and sinful. . This 
'practical knowledge was never more extensively useful 
to me than now; knowing how to prepare the Indian 
meal and rice so that it was palatable and no waste. 
Yet with these appliances the meal at last failed; no 
skill in cooking would make it like the widow’s barrel; 
and though I had learned not to distrust, yet it cannot 
be said that I felt the same animation in giving out the 
last day’s mess as the first I had a little money left, 


OF IRELAND. 


245 


and tlie weather was getting warmer; a portion at least 
of what had been wanted for fuel, could be reserved for 
food. I hoped that on the ocean there might be some¬ 
thing destined for me, though not the least intimation 
was given to these poor ones; but they were urged to 
apply to some of the Relief Associations. 

One unfortunate man was the only one that died who 
had received any aid from me ; and his life was forgetfully 
left to go gradually out, when it might have been saved. 
A curate called and found him recruiting from the last 
stages of starvation in which I first found him, and 
kindly gave him a little money and food, promising that 
he would provide for him in future, and relieve me, 
as so many were on my hands. The curate forgot him. 
Three weeks after I called to see him :—a girl of two 
years was dying on a litter of straw in the corner, nestled 
by the emaciated father, who was too weak to know the 
suffering of his child ; and in two days they were both 
dead. He had been “ forgotten by his neighbours,” 
his wife was in the hospital; he sat waiting, as was 
common, in patient hope, till death relieved him. 

Cases of death were not so common in Dublin as in 
many cities, the Society of Friends did much to stay the 
plague, and their work was carried on by different 
means; their labourers, in most cases, were volunteers, 
who asked no reward but that of doing good. How 
many of the poor bless the names of William Forster, 
and Joseph Crosfield, from England, for their labours of 
love; who, on the 28th of December, 1846, reached 
Dublin, made their object known to that Committee, 
whose views and operations harmonized, and thence they 
proceeded on their mission of love and mercy. Their 
graphic report is before the world, as well as others of 
that denomination of Christians, James Luke, Marcus 
Goodbody, William Dillwyn Sims, and William 
Todhunter. These men, moved by high and lofty 
feelings, spent no time in idle commenting on the 
Protestant or Papist faith—the Radical, Whig, or Tory 
politics ; but looked at things as they were, and faith¬ 
fully recorded what they saw. Not only did th ey record, 


246 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


but they relieved. They talked and wrote, but acted 
more ; and such a lasting impression have their labours 
left, that the next summer, as I followed in their wake 
through the country, the name of the “blessed William 
Forster” was on the lips of the poor cabiners, and it was 
from their testimony that his name and good deeds first 
reached me. William Bennett, too, passed six weeks in 
Ireland, and a clear and concise account was recorded 
by himself, of the state of the famine ; though his own 
beneficence, which was not scanty, has not been definitely 
known, because he acted as an individual, therefore 
he was not responsible to any society. As the pestilence 
followed the famine, the entire country seemed to be 
sinking into the vortex, and a knowledge of Ireland was 
gaining by all classes of people, both in and out of the 
country. An innovation was made, promising good 
results, into the long-established habits and condition of 
that people, which nothing before had done. Poverty 
was divested of every mask; and from the mud cabin to 
the estated gentleman’s abode, all strangers who wished, 
without the usual circuitous ceremony, could gain access. 
The landlord, who had long sported at his ease, was 
beginning to pay a penalty of which he had never 
dreamed ; the tree, which was planted centuries ago, was 
now beginning to yield an exuberant crop ; the starved 
tenants are driven into the “ Union,” or turned defence¬ 
less into the storm, and, in either case, the rents were 
left unpaid. The landlord growls, but growls in vain : 
the “lazy dogs,” who are not in the poor-house, drawing- 
enormous rates from his extensive farms, are at his doors, 
begging bread, or lying dead under his windows, waiting 
for “ the board to be put on ’em,” as they called a coffin. 
Coffins were now becoming scarce, and in the moun¬ 
tainous regions and islands, two rough boards, with the 
corpse, in the rags which were about it when the breath 
departed, placed between these, a straw rope wound 
about them, and this was the coveted boon which clung 
to them to the last. 

The winter passed, but the spring brought no fresh 
hopes j onward was the fearful march—many faces that 


OP IRELAND. 


247 


were ruddy, and limbs that were robust, and hearts that 
had scarcely had a fear that the wolf would enter their 
dwelling, now began to fade, stumble, and finally sink 
under the pursuer. My purse was low, my meal gone, when 
a letter, the choicest and best, arrived, written by a teacher 
of a pauper school in New York, and signed by the 
Corresponding Committee there of the Dublin Friends’ 
Society, transmitting me a few barrels of meal, from the 
children of that pauper school. This was an offering 
richer than all, it was the interest of the widow’s mite, 
coming through the channel of the orphan, whose willing- 
hearts and ready hands had gathered from their scanty 
comforts a few pounds without solicitation, and begged 
the privilege to send it to me. It came: I had previously 
been informed that a school in the poorest convent in 
Dublin was in a state of the greatest suffering. These 
schools were composed of children who had no means 
of support, many of them orphans, and those who 
had parents which were reduced to beggary, and they 
gathered into convents, and other schools of charity, where 
they were fed once a day. The nuns were of the order 
belonging to the poor, and in time of plenty had only 
been able to feed sixteen daily ; and when some hundreds 
were added, the distress was almost overwhelming. This 
donation, coming from children of the poorest emigrants 
in New York, particularly belonged to such as were in 
like condition, for if such children were turned from 
the schools, many, and most of them, must inevitably 
perish, notwithstanding the Friends’ Society were 
acting with the greatest vigilance. The British Associ¬ 
ation, too, was in motion ; besides the Government had 
been bountiful. America was doing much—private 
individuals, of the Irish in America, and in all other 
countries where they were scattered, were sending one 
continued train of remittances, to the utter astonishment 
of the Postmasters ; yet death sharpened his teeth daily, 
for new victims. With gladness of heart I hastened to the 
committee-rooms—presented the letter—was requested 
to wait an answer till the next day ; the next day another 
day was demanded; called the third day, and was denied 


248 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


in tolo. The clerk returned the letter without an ex¬ 
planation, only saying, that “the committee had con¬ 
cluded not to grant it.” Had I that moment been sum¬ 
moned by a policeman, to appear before a court, and 
answer to a charge of swindling or fraud, I could not 
have been more astonished, and certainly not so dis¬ 
appointed, for my heart had been most intensely fixed 
on this, as the most sacred offering ever sent me. The 
deep sense of injustice which was felt, drew these 
remarks :—That if the Americans had misplaced their 
confidence, in sending remittances through that channel, 
I was sorry that I had requested them to send mine in 
that way, and would immediately write them to desist. 
No other explanation was given than a plain decided 
denial; but when I had passed the door, the solution 
began to open. The fault was mine, God had sent me 
to Ireland, in His own way, and had instructed me to 
lean entirely on Him; His promises had never failed 
towards me—nothing had been wanted, but had been 
supplied to my wonderment: and now, when daily He 
had been explaining for what purpose I had been sent 
hither, that I should lean to the creature, and ask aid, 
which in reality was not needed, and only retarded my 
operations, was a rebuke upon my unbelief and trust, 
which silenced the severity I at first felt towards those 
instruments in whose hands I had foolishly placed 
myself. I do not censure them, they acted from motives 
no matter to me ; and God might have used them as a 
corrective most effectual, because in them I had placed 
both confidence and power, which were in safer hands 
before. Man may do well, but God can do letter ; and 
it would be fulsome flattery to say, that the “ Central 
Committee of Dublin” were infallible; and cruel injustice 
to assert, that they did not act effectually, liberally, and 
taken as a whole, do the best that was done. 

On my way home, with my rejected letter in my hand, 
Richard Webb met me, took the letter, and entered the 
committee-room; what barriers he removed I know not, 
but the meal was sent. This was the only co-working 
that I attempted in Ireland; not because my strength 


OF IRELAND. 


249 


and wisdom were complete, but because they were so 
inefficient , that an Almighty arm was requisite to effect 
the object. 

The next morning early I went to the convent. They 
knew not of my object; but learning that I was an 
American, “Bless God,” said the Abbess, “that I see one 
of that nation, to say how much we owe in this convent 
to their liberality; these children here must have died, 
but for what they have sent them ; and this morning they 
have assembled to receive the last bit we can give, and we 
have been saying, that we should be ashamed to ask from 
the Americans any more, had we an opportunity to do 
so.” They then led me into the school-room, and called 
the attention of the children to see one of that kind 
nation who had fed them through the winter, and 
that through me they must send thanks to my people. 
They were then told what the pauper children of New 
York had sent—children like them, who were poor, but 
who saved all the pence they could procure, and had 
sent the little gathering to them. I have not the least 
doubt, had the benevolent friends of that “Dublin 
Central Committee,” witnessed the happy scene of joy 
and gratitude which was there manifested, they would 
have better understood my feelings, and rejoiced too. 

July 6th, I took the steamer for Belfast. Here was a 
work going on, which was paramount to all I had seen. 
Women were at work ‘ and no one could justly say that 
they were dilatory or inefficient. Never in Ireland, 
since the famine, was such a happy combination of all 
parties, operating so harmoniously together, as was here 
manifested. Not in the least like the women of Dublin, 
who sheltered themselves behind their old societies; 
most of them excusing themselves from personal labour, 
feeling that a few visits to the abodes of the poor were 
too shocking for female delicacy to sustain; and though 
occasionally one might be prevailed upon to go out, yet 
but for a few days could I ever prevail on any to accom¬ 
pany me ; yet much was given in Dublin, for it is a city 
celebrated for its benevolence, and deservedly so, as far as 
giving goes; but giving and doing are antipodes in her who 


250 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


has never been trained to domestic duties. The faithful 
John Gregg thundered his powerful anathemas on the 
indolent in God’s vineyard, who laboured not among 
the poor, and descended to the duties of women, in 
emergencies like this : they heard it, some said it was 
beautiful; some declared he was the most witty man they 
ever heard; and others said, his remarks were quite 
amusing ; but how many ever through the week were 
influenced to practice his preaching,eternity -will best tell. 

The Belfast Ladies’ Association embraced an object 
which lives and tells, and will continue to do so, when 
they who formed it shall be no more on earth. It was 
on January 1st, 1847, that the first meeting was held in 
the Commercial Buildings, by ladies of all religious deno¬ 
minations ; and they there resolved to form a Society, 
for the purpose of raising a fund, to be appropriated 
to afflicted localities, without any regard to religious 
distinctions. Visiting soon commenced, under the titles 
of Corresponding Committee, Industrial Committee, 
Clothing Committee, and Collecting Committee. Without 
inserting the names of these indefatigable ladies, it may 
be recorded that more than 150 were associated in this 
great work; and the highways and hedges were faith¬ 
fully visited, the poor sought out, their condition cared 
for, and the children of the most degraded class were 
taken and placed in a school, which continues to flourish 
on an extensive scale. This school has the benefit of 
being taught the elementary branches of an education, 
and the most useful needlework and knitting; and the 
squalid looks of the children were soon exchanged for 
health, and that indifference to appearance, which the 
hungry, neglected poor soon wear, was, like magic almost, 
transformed into a becoming tidiness and self-respect. 

Though many had never before known anything of 
sewing or knitting, yet they soon produced specimens 
praiseworthy to teacher and scholar, and by this industry 
earned a little each week which they could call their 
own. Other schools of the kind multiplied in almost 
every part of Ireland, especially in Connaught, where 
the exertions of Dr. Edgar, who explored this province, 


OF IRELAND. 


25 1 


have been a great blessing in this respect. Many a poor 
child by these schools has been made to look up with a 
hope which was entirely new—a hope that in atter days 
she might wear a shawl and a bonnet, write a good letter, 
make a dress, &c. The happy effects of industry on the 
minds of the children were striking. That passive in¬ 
difference to all but how a morsel of bread should be 
obtained, was exchanged for a becoming manner and ani¬ 
mated countenance, lighted up by the happy conscious¬ 
ness, that industry was a steppiDg-stone which would 
justly and honourably give them a place among the 
comfortable and respectable of the earth. And again, 
to quote Dr. Edgar, every look seemed to say, “ They 
have had in their work a full reward.” And he adds, 
“ Thus an independent, self-supporting, and useful gene¬ 
ration may be raised, who will be less at the mercy of 
chaiminsr seasons : and 'who, when the day of trouble 
comes, will have some resources on which to draw. 

My greatest object in writing this sketch of the famine 
being to show its effects on all classes, rather than to 
detail scenes of death by starvation, a few r sketches only 
of this kind in passing along will be given, for the pur¬ 
pose of illustrating the principle of mind as it developes 
itself in the varied changes through which it is called 
to pass. These Industrial Schools, which I afterwards 
visited, wdien passing through Connaught in 1847 and 
1848, were subjects of the deepest interest; for to 
me they told the whole story of Ireland’s wrongs and 
Ireland’s remedy. They told me, that when usurpation 
robbed them of the means of industry, for their own 
good, that oppression confined this industry to the per¬ 
sonal benefits of the oppressor, and thus deadened every 
natural excitement to labour, which promised nothing 
but a bare subsistence among the children of men, who 
looked down with contempt upon them, because, by this 
“ hewing of wood and drawing of water,” they had been 
kept in degraded, unrequited servitude ; but now that an 
industry, founded on righteous principles, was springing 
U p—an industry that not only rewarded but elevated—the 
convenient term, “ lazy Irish,” was hiding its slanderous 
head. 


252 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


The Belfast Association felt this more and more, as 
they received returns from Connaught of the happy 
effects of these schools, and their hearts were more and 
more encouraged in pursuing these labours of love ; they 
met often, they planned, they talked together of the 
best means to accomplish the most good ’ and one great 
beauty of these meetings was, no one said to her sister, 
“ Stand by, for I am holier than thou.” Different parties 
who had never mingled, now felt one common interest. 
»She who had much brought in of her abundance, and she 
who had little brought in her mite. While these bene¬ 
volent women were teaching the practice of industry to 
the poor, they found the benefit react upon themselves, 
for they too must be industrious. This new, this arduous, 
long-neglected work, required not only their skill but 
their energies, to put and keep this vast machinery in 
motion. Money was not all that was requisite in the 
work. The abodes of the most wretched must be visited, 
and though before the famine they had scarcely dreamed 
of the suffering that was in their city, and could not 
believe that their intelligent, industrious town, was in 
much real want; when they found that many uncom¬ 
plaining children of distress had been struggling for life 
long before the famine, they doubled if possible their 
energies, and cheerfully showed by individual exertion, 
that if they had previously overlooked this pleasing 
duty, they would repair as far as possible all that had 
been neglected before on their part. The men, too, 
showed themselves efficient co-workers, they contributed, 
many of them bountifully, and some visited too. They 
erected a bath-house for the benefit of labourers and the 
poor of all classes, to which was attached a laundress, 
that the poor in the most economical way could be pro¬ 
vided with materials for this important handmaid to 
health and respectability— cleanliness. 

I loved to linger in Belfast, all seemed to be life, and 
life to some purpose ; all hearts seemed to be awakened 
to one and the same object, to do good most efficiently : 
and one peculiar trait was here perceivable—none of that 
desire for who should be greatest seemed prevalent. A 
mutual confidence prevailed. One would tell me enthu- 


OF IRELAND. 


253 


siastically, that she did not know how the association 
could manage without Maria Webb ; her judgment was 
always the turning point in all difficulties. Maria Webb 
would expatiate on the efficiency of Mary Ireland, as a 
visitor and manager; a third would regret that the 
indefatigable Miss M‘Cracken, she feared, would soon 
leave us, as her age had passed the line of three-score 
years and ten; another expatiated on the faithful Miss 

-, who was a Roman catholic, but whose labours of 

love had been untiring; and she was quite sorry that 
difference in religious profession had so long kept so 
many useful members at a distance, &c. This to a 
stranger could probably be viewed with a sober, impar¬ 
tial eye, that those moving in the machinery could not; 
and to me it looked like a heavenly influence distilling 
unperceived into the hearts of all, like the dew, which 
falls alike on the garden flower or mountain weed. 

Another most valuable principle was illustrated by 
this famine, which a God-loving heart must admire, 
viz., the difference between a hireling and a voluntary 
worker, and so clear was this difference, that whenever, 
in going the length of Ireland, I met any of either class 
upon coaches, in trains, visiting the poor, or distributing 
donations in soup-shops, or elsewhere, a mistake was not 
once made in pronouncing who was a paid officer, or 
who was there moved by an innate voice, to do what he 
could for the poor. Allow me to dwell a little on this 
and make it as clear as I can. 

An officer paid by government was generally well paid, 
consequently he could take the highest seat in a public 
conveyance, he sought for the most comfortable inns, 
where he could secure the best dinner and wines; he 
inquired the state of the people, and did not visit the 
dirty hovels himself when he could find a menial who 
would for a trifle perform it; and though sometimes 
when accident forced him in contact with the dying 
or dead, his pity was stirred, it was mingled with the 
curse which always follows: Laziness and filth, and he 
wondered why the dirty wretches had lived so long; and 
he hoped this lesson would teach them to work in future, 



254 : 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


and lay up something as other people did.” When his 
plan of operation was prepared, his shop opened, and 
hooks arranged, and the applications of the starving 
were numerous, he peremptorily silenced this , and sent 
away that without relief; many who had walked miles 
without food for twenty-four hours, and some died on 
their way home, or soon after reaching it; and when 
the story was told him, and he entreated to look into 
the cases of such, the answer was, that he must be true 
to government, and not give out to any whose names he 
had not entered into the books; if they died how could 
he help it, &c. If all did not do precisely as has been 
stated, all manifested a similar spirit, more or less. 

The Hon. William Butler, who was appointed as an 
overseer by government, was an exception, so far as 
language was concerned; he spoke feelingly, but his 
personal habits were not brought to that test of many 
with a lower station ; he acted kindly as an inspector 
and devised the best means which he could, and I w'as 
informed, when making the inquiry respecting his dis¬ 
tinguished humanity, that he accepted the appointment 
from principle , and not from, necessity, that he might 
see that justice was better administered. 

Let us now follow the self-moved or heavenly-moved 
donor. He was found mingling with the poorest, often 
taking the lowest seat, curtailing all unnecessary expense, 
that he might have more to give, seeking out the most 
desolate abodes, and speaking kindly to the most de¬ 
graded ; looking into the causes of distress, that he might 
better know how to remove them, never upbraiding with 
harshness, and always seeking some apology for their 
misdoings, when representing their case to the unin¬ 
formed. Many, both men and women, among this class, 
took most responsible donations without any reward, 
and acted in the kindest and most judicious manner; 
always minding to serve first those who needed most and 
had come the farthest. This kindly spirit was recipro¬ 
cated at once by the poor, and with an astonishing dis¬ 
cernment they often manifested this knowledge ; some¬ 
times much to the uneasiness of the party who were 


OF IRELAND. 


255 


guilty. Through the whole of the famine, I never heard 
any of the poor complain of one who w r as giving from his 
own purse, and seeking out his own objects ; nor, on the 
other hand, did I ever hear one say, who gave from true 
benevolence, that he ever met ingratitude. This might 
have been, but I speak only from personal observation. 

While stopping in Belfast, at the hospitable “ White 
House,” so called, owned by the family of Grimshaws, 
I became acquainted with a Miss Hewitson, whose father 
resided in Donegal. My destiny w r as to that county; 
hearing that the distress there was very great, I wished 
to see it. 

William Bennett and his son had visited that part, in 
March, distributing donations at his own expense mostly, 
and his painful descriptions had awakened a strong 
desire to see for myself, and though I had no means in 
hand, had reason to hope that there might be some on 
the ocean. I took the coach for Derry, a few miles from 
that town. The mother of Miss Hewitson was to meet 
me in her own carriage, and conduct me to her house in 
Bossgarrow. Derry had not suffered so much as many 
other tow r ns, and a stranger passing through w r ould not 
notice anything peculiar from the condition in past 
years. But this little relief was but to make what fol¬ 
lowed appear the more painful. Mrs. Hewitson met me 
w r ith her son, and w r e took tea at a delightful little man¬ 
sion on the sloping side of one of Ireland’s green lawns, 
looking down upon a beautiful lake. And is there, I 
asked, on this pretty spot, misery to be found ?—“ Come 
and see,” w T as the answer of my kind friend. It was 
twilight w T hen we stepped into the carriage, and few 
painful objects met us till we reached her dwelling. 

Her paternal cottage w r as nestled in a pretty w T ood, its 
roof thatched, and its windows shaded by the creeping 
vine in front. On one end, a window gave one of the 
most beautiful peeps upon a lake that can be imagined ; 
and the back contained a garden which was one of the 
most pleasant retreats I had met, for the gooseberry 
was just ripe. Here had this discreet, this “virtuous 


256 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


woman/’ lived, and by precept and example trained a 
family of sons and daughters, which will, which do arise 
and call her blessed. Her husband had been an officer, 
and was then receiving a small pension, and during the 
first season of the famine had been employed by govern¬ 
ment as an overseer of the Board of Works. His heart 
had become sickened at the scenes which came under 
his eye, some sketches of which have been before the 
public. 

The morning lighted up a pretty cottage, well ordered, 
and the breakfast-table presented a treat unseen before 
by me in Ireland. Instead of the bread, butter, tea, and 
egg, which are the height of the best Irish breakfast, 
there was a respectable corn-cake, made as it should be, 
suitable accompaniments of all kinds, with the best of 
cream for me ; and were it not that the hungry had then 
commenced their daily usages of assembling in crowds 
about the house for food, that breakfast would have been 
a pleasant one. When I had ascertained that her husband 
had been in x\merica, and from him she had been told of 
the virtues of corn-cake, and that her skill had been exer¬ 
cised till she had brought it to perfection—it was valued 
if possible still more. Had the Irish mothers through¬ 
out Ireland managed as did this woman, their task in the 
famine would have been much lighter—the poor, many 
more of them, would have been saved, and multitudes 
who have gone down might have retained their standing. 
Had the higher classes known how to have changed the 
meal into the many palatable shapes as did this econo¬ 
mical housekeeper, when the wheaten loaf was so high, 
immense money might have been saved to all parties. 
It was brought in such disrepute by bad cooking, that 
many would be ashamed to be found eating it, and one 
man who was begging most earnestly for food, when 
offered some of this prepared in the Irish style, turned 
away in contempt, saying, “ No, thank God, I’ve never 
been brought to ate the yeller indian.'’ 

This industrious woman, like Solomon’s prudent wife, 
had not only risen “ while it was yet dark,” to prepare 


OF IRELAND. 


257 


meat for her household, but she had been in her meal- 
room at four in the morning, weighing out meal for the 
poor, the Society of Friends in Dublin having furnished 
her with grants. This I found was her daily practice, 
while the poor through the day made the habitation a 
nucleus not of the most pleasant kind. The lower 
window-frame in the kitchen was of board instead of 
glass, this all having been broken by the pressure of 
faces continually there. 

Who could eat, who could work, who could read, or 
who could play in such circumstances as these % Cer¬ 
tainly it sometimes seemed that the sunshine was changed, 
that the rain gave a stranger pattering, and truly, that 
the wind did moan most dolefully. The dogs ceased their 
barking, there were scarcely any cocks to be heard crow¬ 
ing in the morning, and the gladsome mirth of children 
everywhere ceased. 01 ye, whose nerves are disturbed at 
the glee of the loud-laughing boy, come to this land of 
darkness and death, and for leagues you may travel, and 
in house or cabin, by the wayside, on the hill-top, or 
upon the meadow, you shall not see a smile, you shall 
not see the sprightly foot running in ecstacy after the 
rolling hoop, leaping the ditch or tossing the ball. Their 
young laughing full faces, and brilliant eyes, and buoyant 
limbs, had become walking-skeletons of death ! When 
I saw one approaching, with his emaciated fingers locked 
together before him, his body in a bending position, as 
all generally crawled along, if I had neither bread nor 
money to give, I turned from the path \ for, instead of 
the u God save ye kindly, or ye look wairy lady, ’ which 
had ever been the salutation to me on the mountains, I 
knew it would be the imploring look or the vacant 
sepulchral stare, which, when once fastened upon you, 
leaves its impress for ever. The kind Hewitsons seemed 
not only to anticipate my wants, but to enter into my 
feelings as a stranger whose heart was tortured with un¬ 
paralleled scenes of suffering, and they did all to make 
my stay pleasant, and if possible to draw away my mind 
a little from the painful objects around me. They 


258 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


conducted me from place to place, and shewed me much 
of the beautiful scenery with which Donegal abounds, as 
well as all Ireland. Lakes bountifully dot this part of 
Donegal, Rathmelton, Milford, Letterkenny, Dunfanaghy, 
all lie in this region, as well as a romantic spot on the 
sea-shore, called M‘Sweeny’s Gun, so called on account 
of the report that the sea makes when it rushes with 
tremendous force under the rock which overhangs it, and 
through which a round hole has been made, and as the 
waves dash, shooting through, high into the air, a loud 
report, like that of a gun, is heard; but as natural 
curiosities are not the object of this sketch, they cannot 
be dwelt upon : curiosities of a most unnatural and 
fearful kind have fallen to my share. As fond as I had 
always been of looking upon the grandeur of the sea- 
coast in Ireland, which has no rival probably, taken as 
a whole; now the interest was so deadened, by the ab¬ 
sence of the kindly children, who were always ready to 
point out every spot of interest, and give its name, that 
a transient look sufficed. At Letterkenny, the Roman 
catholic Bishop invited us to his house, and treated us 
with much courtesy ; shewed us his robes and badges of 
honour, given him at Rome ; and though he knew that 
•we were protestants, yet he appeared not to suspect but 
that we should be as deeply interested as though we 
were under his jurisdiction. Many favourable opportu¬ 
nities presented, to become acquainted with the effects 
of the famine upon the Romish priests. Some were inde¬ 
fatigable, and died in their labours; while others looked 
more passively on. They had two drawbacks which the 
protestants in general had not.—First, a great proportion 
of them are quite poor ; and second, they, in the first sea¬ 
son of the famine, were not entrusted with grants, as the 
protestants were. These difficulties operated strongly upon 
the minds of the benevolent class among them. One pro- 
testant clergyman informed me, that so much confidence 
had he of the integrity of the catholic priest in his parish, 
that when he had a large grant sent to him, he offered 
as much of it to the priest as he could distribute, know- 


OF IRELAND. 


25 9 

ing, lie added, that it would be done with the greatest 
promptitude and fidelity. No ministers of religion in 
the world know as much of their people as do the 
catholics, not one of their flock is forgotten, scarcely by 
name, however poor or degraded; and consequently 
when the famine came, they had not to search out the 
poor, they knew the identical cabin in which every 
starving one was lying, and as far as knowledge was 
concerned were in a condition to act most effectually. 

My next visit was to the far-famed Gweedore, the estate 
of Lord George Hill. This gentleman is too well known 
to need a description. His works will live when he is 
where the “ wicked cease from troubling.” His facts on 
Gweedore are the most amusing of anything I have read 
on the habits of the Irish ; and to understand what 
Lord George Hill has done, whoever visits that spot 
should first read these “ facts,” and then all objections 
must be silenced respecting the capacity of the most 
savage of that nation being elevated. These “facts” 
I had never read till some time after my visit there, 
which I now much regret. It would not be supposed 
that during a famine this spot could be seen to much 
advantage ; but there was, even then, a degree of comfort 
which did not exist in any other part I had seen. It 
lies in the parish of Tullaghobegly, on the north-west 
coast of Ireland, where the wildest scenery stretches 
along the bold coast, in many places; and where it 
would seem that man, unless driven from the society of 
his fellow-being, would never think of making his abode. 
But here men had clustered, and here they had constructed 
rude huts, of loose stone or turf, and with but little law, 
they were a “law to themselves,” each one doing as he 
listed. The system of Bundale prevailed, “ one tenant 
had his proportion in thirty or forty different places, 
and without fences between them;” and the strips were 
often so small, that half a stone of oats would sow one of 
these divisions; and these “Gweedore facts” tell us that 
one poor man had his inheritance in thirty-two different 
places, and abandoned, in despair, the effort to make 


260 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


them out. There were no resident landlords, the rent was 
paid any how, or not at all, as the tenant was disposed. 
Sometimes a little was picked up, as they termed it, by 
some agent going from cabin to cabin, and receiving 
what each might please to give. Their evenings were 
passed in each other’s huts, till late at night, telling 
stories, drinking potteen, &c. Perpetual quarrels arose 
from the Rundale system; for the cattle, on a certain day, 
were brought from the mountain, to graze on the arable 
land ; and if Mikey or Paddy had not his crops gathered, 
they were injured, and then a fight set matters at rest 
again. The animals, too, were often divided, according 
to the Rundale system : if four men, for instance, owned 
a horse, each must provide a shoe; in one case, but three 
men had a share in one, consequently the unshod foot 
got lame ; a dispute arose, one of the two complained 
to a magistrate, that he had kept his foot shod decently, 
and “ had shod the fourth foot twice to boot !" 

Let modern socialists take a few lessons from these 
originals. 

Their materials for agricultural labour were at one 
time quite novel: when a field was to be harrowed the 
harrow was made fast to the pony's tail; a rope was 
fastened to the horse’s tail, and then to the harrow; but 
if the hair of the tail was long it was fastened by a peg 
into a hole in the harrow; thus equipped, a man 
mounted his back, and drove him over the field. Who¬ 
ever lacks invention let him learn from Paddy. The 
following true description of that district is given by 
Patrick M‘Kye, the teacher of the National School, in 
1837, in a memorial sent to the Lord-Lieutenant; nor was 
Patrick’s memorial in vain, for it not only awakened an 
Englishman to send these naked ones clothing, but it 
will be handed down to future generations, as a memento 
of both the suffering state of that people, and the faith¬ 
fulness of the writer; and, above all, it will show in very 
lively colours what persevering enlightened philanthropy 
can do, when in the heart of such a landlord as Lord 
George Hill. 


OF IRELAND. 


261 


Here follows tlie document; and if every schoolmaster 
in Ireland had so turned his parish inside out, many 
more Lords, like George Hill, might have long since 
arisen to their help :— 

“ To His Excellency the Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland , 

“ THE MEMORIAL OF PATRICK M f KYE. 

“ Most Humbly Sheweth, 

“ That the parishioners of the parish of West Tullag- 
hobegly, in the Barony of Kilmacrennan, in the County 
of Donegal, are in the most needy, hungry, and naked 
condition of any people that ever came within the pre¬ 
cincts of my knowledge, although I have travelled a 
part of nine counties in Ireland, also a part of England 
and Scotland, together with a part of British America; 
I have likewise perambulated 2253 miles through seven 
of the United States, and never witnessed the tenth 
part of such hunger, hardships and nakedness. 

“ Now, my Lord, if the causes which I now lay before 
your Excellency, were not of very extraordinary impor¬ 
tance, I would never presume that it should be laid 
before you. 

“ But I consider myself in duty bound by charity to 
relieve distressed and hungry fellow-man. 

“ Although I am sorry to state that my charity can¬ 
not extend farther than to explain to the rich, where 
hunger and hardships exist, in almost in the greatest 

degree that nature can endure. 

t( And which I shall endeavour to explain in detail, 
with all the truth and accuracy in my power, and that 
without the least exaggeration, as follows :— 

“ There is about 4000* persons in this parish, and all 

* This is an error; the population of Tullaghobegly being 9049 in 
the year 1841. Paddy M‘Kye, however, when he wrote in the year 
1837, had no means of ascertaining this , as he had all the other par¬ 
ticulars in his statement. 

This error of the faithful Paddy is certainly a very modest one, and 
serves rather to brighten than eclipse the picture. It looks as though 
the mind of the writer was not so perverted, nor so lacking in material, 
as to be driven to exaggeration to make out a vivid, exciting story. 


262 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


catholics, and as poor as I shall describe, having among 
them no more than— 


“ One cart, 

No wheel car, 

No coach, or any other vehicle, 
One plough. 

Sixteen harrows, 

Eight saddles, 

Two pillions, 

Eleven bridles, 

Twenty shovels, 

Thirty-two rakes, 

Seven table-forks, 

Ninety-three chairs, 

Two hundred and forty-three 
stools, 

Ten iron grapes, 

N o swine, hogs, or pigs, 
Twenty-seven geese, 

Three turkeys, 

Two feather beds, 

Eight chaff beds, 

Two stables, 

Six cow-houses, 

One national school, 

No other school. 


One priest, 

No other resident gentleman, 

No bonnet, 

No clock, 

Three watches, 

Eight brass candlesticks, 

No looking glasses above 3d. in 
price, 

No boots, no spurs, 

No fruit trees, 

No turnips, 

No parsnips, 

No carrots, 

No clover, 

Or any other garden vegetables, 
but potatoes and cabbage, and 
not more than ten square feet 
of glass in windows in the 
whole, with the exception of 
the chapel, the school-house, 
the priest’s house, Mr. Dom- 
brain’s house, and the consta¬ 
bulary barrack. 


“None of their either married or unmarried women 
can afford more than one shift, and the fewest number 
cannot afford any, and more than one half of both men 
and women cannot afford shoes to their feet, nor can 
many of them afford a second bed, but whole families of 
sons and daughters of mature age indiscriminately lying 
together with their parents, and all in the bare buff. 

“ They have no means of harrowing their land, but 
with meadow rakes. Their farms are so small that from 
four to ten farms can be harrowed in a day with one 
rake. 

“Their beds are straw—green and dried rushes or 
mountain bent: their bed-clothes are either coarse sheets, 
or no sheets, and ragged filthy blankets. 

“ And worse than all that I have mentioned, there is 
a general prospect of starvation, at the present prevailing 
among them, and that originating from various causes, 


OF IRELAND. 


263 


but the principal cause is the rot or failure of seed in 
the last year’s crop, together with a scarcity of winter 
forage, in consequence of a long continuation of storm 
since October last, in this part of the country. 

“ So that they, the people, were under the necessity of 
cutting down their potatoes and give them to their 
cattle to keep them alive. All these circumstances con¬ 
nected together, has brought hunger to reign among 
them to that degree, that the generality of the peasantry 
are on the small allowance of one meal a day, and many 
families cannot afford more than one meal in two days, 
and sometimes one meal in three days. 

“ Their children crying and fainting with hunger, and 
their parents weeping, being full of grief, hunger, debi¬ 
lity and dejection, with glooming aspect, looking at their 
children likely to expire in the jaws of starvation. 

“Also, in addition to all, their cattle and sheep are 
dying with hunger, and their owners forced by hunger 
to eat the flesh of such. 

“’Tis reasonable to suppose that the use of such flesh 
will raise some infectious disease among the people, and 
may very reasonably be supposed, that the people will 
die more numerous than the cattle and sheep, if some 
immediate relief are not sent to alleviate their hunger. 

“Now, my Lord, it may perhaps seem inconsistent 
with truth that all that I have said could possibly be 
true, but to convince your noble Excellency of the truth 
of all that I have said, I will venture to challenge the 
world to produce one single person to contradict any 
part of my statement. 

“ Although I must acknowledge, that if reference were 
made to any of the landlords or landholders of the parish, 
that they would contradict it, as it is evident it would 
blast their honours if it were known abroad, that such 
a degree of want existed in their estates among their 
tenantry. But here is how I make my reference and 
support the truth of all that I have said ; that is, if any 
unprejudiced gentleman should be sent here to investi¬ 
gate strictly into the truth of it; I will, if called on, go 
with him from house to house, where his eyes will fully 


264 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


satisfy and convince him, and where I can show him about 
one hundred and forty children bare naked, and was so 
during winter, and some hundreds only covered with 
filthy rags, most disgustful to look at. Also, man and 
beast housed together, i. e. the families in one end of the 
house, and the cattle in the other end of the kitchen. 

“ Some houses having within its walls, from one cwt. 
to thirty cwts. of dung, others having from ten to 
fifteen tons weight of dung, and only cleaned out once 
year! 

“ I have also to add that the National School has 
greatly decreased in number of scholars, through hunger 
and extreme poverty; and the teacher of said school, 
with a family of nine persons, depending on a salary of 
,£8. a year, without any benefit from any other source. 
If I may hyperbolically speak, it is an honour for the 
Board of Education! 

“One remark before I conclude, I refer your noble 
Excellency for the authenticity of the above statement 

to the Rev. H. O’F-, Parish Priest, and to Mr. 

R-, Chief Constable, stationed at Gweedore, in 

said parish, and Mr. P-, .Chief Officer of Coast 

Guard, in same district. 

“ Your most humble and obedient Servant, 

“Patrick M‘Kye.” 


CHAPTER XVII. 

“ I stand alone, without fear, in the midst of thousands, though 
the valiant he distant far.”— Ossian. 

Now reader, summon your forces, collect your strength, 
and see if you are prepared to meet such a formidable 
host as this, and go forth to battle. There was one in 
the face and eyes of all the foregoing graphic facts, stood 
up single-handed; and, like the shepherd son of Jesse, 
went forth and boldly challenged this gigantic Goliath. 
Yes! Lord George Hill is not a George Washington, his 






OF IRELAND. 


265 


work was a mightier one— his was a grapple with mind , 
with untutored mind, gathering strength for ages, till it 
seemed to defy all attempts of reform ; and, like the bold 
cliffs which hung over their wild coast, stood up in their 
pride and said, “ Bash on, iveheed you not." Washington 
had carnal battles to fight, and with carnal weapons, in 
the hands of gallant soldiers, he scattered the foe. But 
mark ! He that by moral power grapples with the 
worst passions of men, and lays them harmless at his 
feet, has done more than he who has conquered whole 
armies by the sword. This, Lord George Hill has done. 
In 1838 this indefatigable man purchased small hold¬ 
ings, adding to them, till the whole amounted to upwards 
of 23,000 acres. 3,000 people then inhabited the land, 
and but 700 paid rent. What did he do ? Did he take 
a body of policemen, and arm himself with a pike and 
pistol, and go forth, demanding submission or death ? 
He had an efficient agent; and “ temporary apartments 
were fitted up on the spot.” He then went himself into 
every hut on his estate : and, understanding Irish, he 
soon gained access to their hearts : they said, “ he could 
not be a lord because he spoke Irish.” 

His first work was to check the illicit distillation of 
their grain ; and he built a corn store, 87 feet long and 
22 wide, with three lofts, and a kiln ; then a quay was 
formed, in front of the store, admitting vessels of 200 
tons, having 14 feet of water at the height of the tide. 
A market was established, where the same price w r as 
paid for grain as at Letterkenny, 26 miles distant. The 
difficulties of building this store w'ere great indeed— 
no masons or carpenters in the vicinity—and the site 
must be excavated by blasting a solid rock. But what 
will not, and what did not perseverance do ? It was 
done, and next a wheelwright was employed; timber 
and iron brought from Derry ; until the calls multiplied, 
the store w ? as stocked with the common necessaries of 
life, and at last it was increased double in size. The 
inhabitants, for the first time, began to eat bread ; and, 
can you believe it 1 savage as they w T ere, they loved it. 
The next difficult work was to place each tenant on his 

N 


266 


LIGIIT3 AND SHADES 


own farm ; and to do this every landholder was served 
with notice “ to quit.” A surveyor had drawn maps, 
the tenants were assembled, and the new allotments 
made, according to his rent, all previous bargains w r ere 
adjusted to mutual satisfaction. But the final allot¬ 
ments of land took three years to settle: they must 
look over their new farms, all in one piece, and cast 
lots for them. The Eundale system, when disturbed, 
brought new difficulties to these people ; it broke up their 
clusters of huts, and the facilities of assembling-nights, 
to tell and hear long stories ; and they must tumble down 
their cabins, which were of loose stones ; and the owner 
of the cabin hired a fiddler, which no sooner known, than 
the joyous Irish are on the spot: each takes a stone or 
stones upon his or her back, (for women and children 
are there,)-—they dance at intervals—the fiddler animates 
them on while the day-light lasts, and then the night is 
finished by dancing. When the houses were set up anew' 
upon the farms, Lord George thought it advisable to have 
a few ten acre farms, fenced-in on the waste land. This 
was instantly opposed, for they did not want these 
divisions occupied, as by so doing it would thin out the 
crowds and break up the clanship too much. They 
would not be hired to make the ditches ; and a “ fearless 
wanderer” could only do the work; though sodsof turf were 
hurled at him he pursued, but the contest was so sharp 
that it was settled at last by two policemen, at night, 
who frightened away the assailants, who had assembled 
to “ settle” the ditch. Peace was concluded, ditches were 
made, premiums were offered for the best specimens of 
clean cottages, which now had chimneys and windows, 
whitewashed walls, suitable beds and bedsteads, crockery 
and chairs, and the manure heap at a respectable 
distance, and all bearing the appearance of comfort. 
These premiums extended to growing green crops, drain¬ 
ing farms, good calves, pigs, colts, &c., and for webs 
of cloth, best knit stockings, firkins of butter, &c., &c. 
The premium day was the wonder of wonders ; for they 
were told that the noble-hearted Lord George was to 
dine with them, which the poor people could not believe, 


OP IRELAND. 


267 


and were afraid to go in, till tlie surveyor assured them 
that it was true. This was the crowning of the whole, 
and puts for ever at rest any doubts of the good sense 
of this well-balanced mind, which knew how to lay the 
foundation, set up the walls, and put on his seal to the 
topmost stone. Our Saviour explained this principle 
emphatically, when rebuked for eating with publicans 
and sinners: “I came not to call the righteous,” &c. 
Lord George Hill knew well the secret avenue to the 
hearts of these people; he knew they were men, and 
though circumstances had made them degraded ones , 
yet if the smothered embers of that Image in which 
they were created could be stirred, living sparks would 
be emitted. Hid this “ familiarity breed contempt V’ 
Hid they take undue advantage, and say, “We will not 
have this man to rule over us and was God offended ? 
Come and see the fruits of his decision and condescen¬ 
sion—they both stand out in as bold relief as the old 
mountain Arrigle which nods its cloud-capped head over 
this district. 

But details must be left: Facts from Gweedore, should 
be in the hand and heart of every landlord who may 
have anything to do in difficulties like these. Let him 
visit these comfortable cottages, supplied with decencies, 
to cause the inmates to feel that they are human; let 
him see the industry of the women and the becoming 
clothing of the peasantry; let him visit the store, the 
mill, the union-house, school-house, and dispensary; 
and while he is doing all this, let his home be for a few 
days in that well-ordered hotel, and notice the consis¬ 
tency of the whole; and if he can , let him go and do 
likewise. If he cannot, let him retrace all his steps, and 
impartially decide how far his own negligence, impro¬ 
vidence, love of ease, and indifference to the real good of 
his tenantry, may have contributed to bring him into 
this state. If he have not capital, like Lord George 
Hill, where is his capital ? Have horses, coaches, hunt¬ 
ing dogs, and hunting dinners frittered it away ? Then 
woe-betide him, his day is over, who can help him % 
The school-house at Bunbeg, near this store, is not a 

n 2 


268 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


small item in this great work. The room is 25 feet by 
15, lofty and well-ventilated. The teacher has a dwell¬ 
ing under the same roof; and when I visited it all w'as 
order and comfort. The girls are taught sewing, for of 
this the people are quite ignorant, and it may safely be 
presumed that Lord George would not restrict their 
advance in education to certain bounds, lest their talents 
should transcend their station in life. I spent a sabbath 
in that quiet hotel, and attended the Church service, 
which was then conducted in the school-room ; a house 
of worship was in progress, but not ready to be opened. 
The female tenantry who were at home, walking upon 
the street, or calling into the hotel, always had their 
knitting-work in motion whenever I saw them, and such 
a surplus of stockings as amounted to about <£200. was 
then on hand, all of which the females had been paid for 
knitting. “ They shall not be idle,” said his lordship, 
“ though the work is on my hands unsold.” His family 
residence is located about twenty-miles from Gweedore, 
but he and his wife were at the hotel the evening that I 
reached it, and meeting him in the morning in the hall— 
supposing him to be some respectable appendage to the 
house—made inquiries concerning it; and not till he 
made some remarks respecting my self-denying travels 
in Ireland, did I find my mistake. I saw at once the 
secret of his mighty achievements; his simplicity -was 
his dignity and strength. He had struggled hard during 
the famine to keep his tenantry from suffering, without 
much foreign aid, had sacrificed much, and difficulties 
were increasing. The next winter the hotel was closed 
for a time; sickness had made inroads into the house, 
and death likewise ; but it was re-opened the next season, 
under more encouraging auspices. 

This man has proved to a demonstration what can be 
done even with the most hopeless, and under the most 
discouraging circumstances; for if Lord George Hill 
could transform those wild mountain goats, even to 
common civilized bullocks , what could not be done with 
any and all of the wild game of Ireland ? Pity, great 
pity, that so few have applied the right key to the Irish 


OF IRELAND. 


269 


heart! Still greater pity that so few believe there is a 
key that can find a right entrance ; give Lord George 
Hill a patent right, and let all who will improve it, and 
Ireland will arise. 

Now, in 1850, he writes, “Say that no 'person died of 
famine at Gweedore, though many of the aged and 
infants, from being scantily fed, died earlier than other¬ 
wise they would, as well as from change of diet; also 
that the people are reviving in a great degree, from the 
potatoe having held out this year.” 

Lord George 11 ill is an Irishman, of the Hillsborough 
family, in the county Down, brother to the late and 
uncle to the present Marquis of Downshire, a true Irish¬ 
man, who lives and acts for his country. 

Two miles from Gweedore an English gentleman had 
fixed a residence on the woody side of a hill, with a fine 
lake at a little distance, who was attracted there by the 
beauty of the scenery, and a desire to enjoy the evening 
of his days in a romantic peaceful retirement among a 
peasantry which pleased him ; and his wife and daughters 
were quite an acquisition to the scattered intelligent 
class, which dotted the wild scenery there. His family 
were then in England, and when I met him a few weeks 
after in Derry, he said, “ I waited all day to see you, but 
when you come again we shall not be disappointed.'’ 
He died a few weeks after, and left a sad breach in the 
hearts of manv. 

V 

This little incident is named to show how much the 
English, who go to Ireland because they admire the 
country, and justly appreciate the people, are beloved. 
They are always mentioned with the greatest admiration 
where they have behaved with a proper condescension 
and kindness to the people. 

My next excursion was from Gweedore to Dungloe, 
with Mr. Forster, who conducted me to his pretty cot¬ 
tage and lovely family, in the parish of Templecrone. 
It was a wild and dreary waste which led us to it—here 
and there a cluster of miserable cabins, and still more 
miserable inmates, met the eye; now and then a hungry 
being would crawl out and make some sorrowful com- 


270 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


plaint of neglect by the relieving officer, which could 
not be remedied; but when we reached the cottage of 
my guide, all bespoke plenty and comfort. Here, in the 
midst of desolation and death, this isolated bright spot 
said, “Mercy is not clean gone for ever.” Here was 
the minister of Templecrone, who had come to dine, for 
he heard that a stranger who pitied Ireland was to be 
there, and his heart was made of tenderness and love. 
Seldom can be met a being where such amiable, tender, 
and sympathetic kindness, are united with energy and 
perseverance, as were in this man. He was alive to 
every tale of woe, and active to surmount all difficulties ; 
with his own hands, he laboured to assist the poor—they 
have laid their dead around his gate in the night, know¬ 
ing that the “blessed minister would not let them be 
buried without a board on ’em.” We spent a painful- 
pleasant evening at this hospitable house, talking of 
the dreadful scenes of death in their midst, and then 
the kind man rode eight miles on horseback to his 
home. The next day we were to visit Arranmore, 
a pretty sunny island, where peace and comfort had 
ever reigned. The peasantry here were about 1500 in 
number, occupying a green spot three miles in length, 
and had always maintained a good character for morality 
and industry. They kept cows, which supplied them 
with milk, sheep with wool, geese with beds, fowls with 
eggs; and grew oats, potatoes, and barley; they wore 
shoes and stockings, which none of the female peasantry 
can do in the country places; they likewise spun and 
made their own wearing apparel, and as the difficulty of 
crossing the channel of the sea, which was three miles, 
was considerable, they seldom visited the mainland. 
When they saw the potatoe was gone, they ate their 
fowls, sheep, and cows, and then began to cross the sea 
to Templecrone for relief. What could they find there 1 
One man could do but little to stay the desolation. 
Hundreds had died before this, and though I knew 
that painful scenes were in waiting, yet, if possible, the 
half was not told me. Six men, beside Mr. Griffith, 
crossed with me in an open boat, and we landed, not 


OF IRELAND. 


271 


buoyantly, upon the once pretty island. The first that 
called my attention was the death-like stillness—nothing 
of life was seen pr heard, excepting occasionally a dog. 
These looked so unlike all others 1 had seen among the 
poor—I unwittingly said—“ How can the dogs look so 
fat and shining here, where there is no food for the 
people?” “ Shall I tell her?” said the pilot to Mr.Griffith, 
not supposing that I heard him. 

This was enough : if anything were wanting to make 
the horrors of a famine complete, this supplied the 
deficiency. Header, I leave you to your thoughts, and 
only add that the sleek dogs of Arranmore w r ere my 
horror, if not my hatred , and have stamped on my mind 
images which can never be effaced. 

We made our first call at the door of the chapel; the 
fat surly-looking priest was standing there ; and, saying 
to him, “Your people, sir, are in a bad state.” “Bad 
enough, they give me nothing.” “Why should they?— 
you cannot expect or ask anything of the poor starving 
creatures.” The curate withdrew, leaving the battle to 
be decided by the priest, pilot, and myself, for he had 
known him before. “Ah,” said the pilot, softly, “lie’s 
a hard one; there's the Christian for you,” pointing to 
the curate, “ lie’s the man that has the pitiful heart,— 
not a cratur on the island but w'ould lay down the life 
for him.” This pilot was a Homan catholic, but that 
characteristic impartiality, peculiar to the Irish, where 
justice and mercy are concerned, belonged to him like¬ 
wise. We went from cabin to cabin, till I begged the 
curate to show me no more. Not in a solitary instance 
did one beg. When w r e entered their dark, smoky, floor¬ 
less abodes, made darker by the glaring of a bright sun, 
which had been shining upon us, they stood up before 
us in a speechless, vacant, staring, stupid, yet most 
eloquent posture, mutely graphically saying, “ Here we 
are, your bone and your flesh, made in God’s image, like 
you. Look at its ! What brought us here ?” May God 
forgive me, and I believe He will, or I would not say it. 
With Job, I said, “ Let darkness and the shadow of 
death stain that day when first the potatoe w r as planted 


272 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


in this green isle of the sea, to oppress the poor labourer, 
and at last bring him to a valley of death— deep, dark , 
intricate —where slimy serpents, poison lizards, and 
gnawing vultures creep and wind about his wasted limbs, 
and gnaw into the deepest recesses of his vitals. 

In every cabin we visited, some were so weak that 
they could neither stand nor sit, and when we entered 
they saluted us, by crawling on all fours toward us, and 
trying to give some token of welcome. Never, never 
was the ruling passion stronger in death. That heart¬ 
felt greeting which they give the stranger, had not in 
the least died within them; it was not asking charity, 
for the curate answered my inquiries afterwards, con¬ 
cerning the self-control, which was the wonder of all, 
that he had sent a man previously through the island, 
to say that a stranger, from across the sea, was comiiig 
to visit them, but she had no money or food to give, and 
they must not trouble her. I gave a little boy a biscuit, 
and a thousand times since have I wished that it had 
been thrown into the sea; it could not save him: he took 
it between his bony hands, clasped it tight, and half-bent 
as he was, lifted them up, looked with his glaring eyes 
upon me, and gave a laughing grin that was truly horrible. 
The curate turned aside, and beckoned me away. “ Did 
you see that horrid attempt to laugh?” “ I cannot stay 
longer,” was my answer. We hurried away. The noble- 
minded pilot said, “ Will you step into my little place, 
and I will show you the boiler where I made the soup 
and stirabout, while the grants lasted.” These grants 
were mostly sent by the churches in England, and some 
poor deserving persons selected to give them out, and a 
very small compensation granted them, from the food they 
were distributing ; and it should be here remarked, that 
when mention is made of the difference between “ hire¬ 
lings” and “ volunteers,” I mean those “ hirelings” who 
were paid by government great salaries, and like the slave- 
overseers, could order this flogging, and withhold that, 
according to his own caprices. This does not in the least 
apply to such distributors as these. 

The house of this man was a step in advance of the 


OF IRELAND. 


273 

common cabins, and every part as clean as cabin or 
cottage could be ; his young despairing wife sat, with 
a clean cap and apron on, for she knew we were coming, 
and uncomplainingly answered our inquiries respecting 
food, that they had not eaten that day, and the husband 
led us into the next room, opened a chest, took out a 
small bowl, partly filled with some kind of meal, and 
solemnly declared that they had not another morsel in 
the cabin or out, nor a sixpence to buy any. The curate 
said, “I know him well, he is a deserving man, and tells 
us the truth.” 

When we left this cabin we passed a contiguous 
one, and a decently clad woman, with shoes and 
stockings, and blue petticoat, (that was the kind the 
peasants always wore in their days of comfort,) very 
pleasantly offered me a bowl of milk. Astonished at 
the sight of such a luxury, I refused, from the principle 
that it would be robbing the starving. “ I regret,” said 
the curate, as we turned away, “ that you did not take 
it, her feelings were deeply injured; a shadow of disap¬ 
pointment,” he said, “ came over her face, as she answered 
in Irish : ‘ The stranger looks wairy and her heart is 
drooping for the nourishment.’” 0, my Heavenly 
Father! my “ heart drooping for nourishment,” after 
having taken a wholesome breakfast, and with the pro¬ 
spect of a good dinner at our return. A second kind 
woman was about making the same offering, when 
I begged Mr. Griffith, who spoke Irish, to say how 
much I thanked her; but that I never drank milk, and 
was not in the least hungry. Enquiring how we came 
to find milk, the pilot answered, that scattered here 
and there, a comfortable farmer, who had milked some 
three or four cows, had saved one from the wreck ; but 
that would soon go, and then all must die together. 
We hurried away. And now for the burying-ground. 

“ You have seen the living and must now see the place 
of the dead.” 

A famine burying-ground on the sea-coast has some 
peculiarities belonging to itself. First, it often lies on 7 
the borders of the sea, without any wall, and the dead 

n 3 


274 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


are put into the earth without a coffin, so many piles on 
piles that the top one often can be seen through the 
thin covering; loose stones are placed over, but the dogs 
can easily put these aside, and tear away the loose dirt. 
This burial-place was on a cliff, whose sides were covered 
with rough stones, and the ascent in some parts very 
difficult. We ascended, sometimes keeping erect, and 
sometimes being obliged to stoop and use our hands. 
When we reached the top, the painful novelty repaid all 
our labour. It was an uneven surface of a few perches, 
with new-made graves and loose stones covering them. 
A straw rope was lying near a fresh-dug grave, which 
the pilot said belonged to an old man, who two days 
before he saw climbing the cliff, with a son of fifteen 
lashed to his back by that cord, bringing in his feeble 
hand a spade. “I untied the cord, took the corpse 
from the father’s back, and with the spade, as well as I 
could, made a grave and put in the boy; adding, “ Here 
you see so many have been buried, that I could not 
cover him well.” 

This was the burial-place of Arranmore, and here, at the 
foot, was the old roaring ocean, dashing its proud waves, 
embracing in its broad arms this trembling green gem, 
while the spray was continually sprinkling its salt tears 
upon its once fair cheek, as if weeping over a desolation 
that it could not repair. At a little distance was a 
smooth green field, rearing its pretty crop of young 
barley, whose heads were full and fast ripening for the 
sickle. “This,” said Mr. Griffith, “is the growth of seed 
•which was presented by William Bennet, last March; 
the poor creatures have sowed it, and if the hands that 
planted it live to reap the crop, they will have a little 
bread. Take a few heads of it, and send them to him 
as a specimen of its fine growth, and of their care in 
cultivating it.” “Had these industrious people,” he 
added, “ been supplied in the spring with seed of barley 
and turnips, they would not need charity from the 
public. The government sent a supply around the 
coast, the delighted people looked up with hope, when 
to their sad disappointment, this expected gift was 


OF IRELAND. 


275 


offered at a price considerably higher than the market 
one, and we saw the ships sailing away, without leaving 
its contents ; for not one was able to purchase a pound. 
And we have since been told, that the 4 lazy dogs’ were 
offered seed, but refused, not willing to take the trouble 
to sow it.” 

We left without doing one favour, and without being 
asked to do one, except to drink a basin of milk. We 
found two little meagre, almost naked girls, sitting upon 
the beach picking shells and grinding them in their 
clean teeth ; they gave a vacant look as we spoke, but. 
answered not. 

I gave the six boatmen a shilling each, who had not 
eaten one mouthful that day, and Mr. G, added six- 
jience each. Their grateful acknowledgments were doubly 
affecting, when they said, “ This is more than we have 
had at one time since the famine,” and they hastened to 
the meal-shop to purchase a little for their starving 
families. We went to a full dinner, prepared in that 
style which the gentry of Ireland are accustomed to 
prepare for guests ; but what was food to me ? The 
sights at Arranmore were food sufficient. What could 
be done 1 Mrs. Forster said, she had written to Eng¬ 
land, till she was ashamed to tire their generosity again; 
not once had she been refused from the churches there, 
and she felt that their patience must be exhausted. 
She gave the names of some of her donors. A letter was 
written in the desperation of feeling to an Independent 
minister there; and God for ever bless him and his 
people, for the ready response. Arranmore was relieved 
a little. 

The next day, a ride of eight miles took me to the 
house of Mr. Griffith; and here was a family made up of 
that kindness which the husband and father possessed. 
He occupied a spot among the honest poor indeed. We 
went over the bleak waste, to visit a romantic pile of 
cliff, upon the sea-coast, and on our way the laughing 
sport of children suddenly broke upon the ear, the first 
I had heard since the famine; it was from behind a little 
hillock, and the sound was mournfully pleasant. We 


276 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


hurried on to greet the joyous ones; and, unperceived, 
saw two little ragged girls, not wasted entirely by hunger, 
who had come out of a little dark cluster of stone cabins, 
and forgetting their sufferings, were playing as other 
children play. We saluted them, and told them to 
“play on, we are glad to see your sports.” We spoke of 
the allusion of the prophet, when boys and girls are 
again “to be seen playing in the streets of Jerusalem,” 
as a token of its happiness—a happiness which, until the 
famine of Ireland, I never valued enough, but now it is 
one of the brightest sunbeams that shine across my path. 
We at last reached one of the most fearful, sublime, and 
dangerous broken pile of rocks imaginable, tumbled 
together, and standing almost perpendicularly over the 
ocean. Deep and frightful caverns yawned between 
them, and how they came tumbled in this mass never 
has been made out; they appeared as if shaken together 
by some sudden crash, and stopped while in their wildest 
confusion, each seizing hold of its contiguous one to 
save it from falling. I was glad, quite glad to get away, 
for had my foot stumbled or slipped, some dark deep 
gulf might have placed me beyond help or hope. 
Ossian might have made his bed among these caves, 
when he says— 

“ As two dark streams from high, rocks meet and mix.” 

Itain hurried us to our dinner, and poured upon us, 
during the ride of eight miles, in darkness, to the cot¬ 
tage of Dungloe. A little incident occurred this evening, 
which happily testified to a remark made by Mr. Forster, 
in a letter to a committee, during the famine. Speaking 
of the starving poor, he says, “ They are suffering most 
'patiently, and in this parish, where there are ten thousand 
souls, not one single outrage has ever been committed, 
in the memory of man.” 

Mrs. Forster and myself in our retreat and hurry had 
neglected to shut the hall door; in the morning it was 
quite open and the hall floor covered with water. 
“What a dangerous condition,” I said, “is this, to leave a 
house at night, especially in a time of hunger, as the 


OF IRELAND. 


277 


present.” “Not in the least,” was the answer; “ I should 
not be afraid to leave every door unlocked at night, and 
every window open, with food or any other property in 
reach, not the least iota would be touched by one of them.” 
This was self-discipline, which can scarcely be recon¬ 
ciled with hunger in any stomachs but the Irish. 

A letter from Mrs. Griffith, in the spring of 1849, 
says, that the people of Arranmore had recovered their 
former standing, that relief was immediately sent from 
England, and they had saved as much for seed as they 
could, and not starve. Five hundred died from famine 
on that island. The potatoe was not blasted the follow¬ 
ing year, and they again looked up with tolerable com¬ 
fort. The island has since been sold, and cultivation will 
be carried on upon a more extensive and profitable scale. 
Could a new race of landlords settle upon that coast, 
and drain and plough the now useless soil, the tenants 
that are drooping and discouraged, would lift up their 
heads with joy and hope. The air blows as pure as 
ever breezes did ; and were industry encouraged, and 
food abundant, the inhabitants would cause the grave¬ 
digger to have the same source of complaint that once 
was made in the South, when a poor woman exclaimed 
“ The times are dreadful, ma’am, Patrick has not put a 
spade to the ground this six weeks, not a word oflyin.” 

The comfort and hospitality at lloshine Lodge must 
be left, and with the kind Mrs. F. and her friend I 
turned away sadly from the scenes of desolation there 
witnessed, and again went to Gweedore, to meet Mrs. 
Hewitson, who was to accompany me to Belfast, and we 
prepared for the journey. She had distributed her grants, 
and her unceasing labours, often for twenty hours in 
twenty-four, called for relaxation. We left the pretty 
spot in sadness, for the starving were crowding about and 
pressing her for food, following the carriage—begging 
and thanking—blessing and weeping. We were obliged 
to shake them off, and hurried in agony away. “ Many of 
these poor creatures,” she observed, “will be dead on my 
return.” On our way we passed the afternoon and night 
at Derry; it was a day for a flower and cattle show. 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


Here were attracted most of the gentry in the county, 
as well as nobility; and we had an opportunity of sitting 
on a seat upon the sloping side of a hill, for nearly three 
hours, in a public garden, which overlooks a pretty part 
of the town, and feasting our eyes with a view of it. It 
was supposed nearly three thousand ladies, had come 
out in their best, on this pleasant day, to see this 
pretty show of flowers ; and though these were almost 
surpassingly beautiful, as Ireland’s flowers are, yet the 
ladies were more so. Their pretty figures, (for they are 
in general of a fine form,) and becoming dresses, in all 
the variety of modern colours and fashions, brought me, 
after more than two hours’ admiration, to the conclusion 
that a more beautiful assemblage of females, of the like 
number, could not be found. Had the women been 
educated after the model of Solomon and Paul’s “virtuous 
women and housekeepers/’ what a crown of glory would 
they be % But alas ! The most of the fine material of 
which woman is composed, is made up for ornament 
rather than use, in that unhappy country. A few Mrs. 
Hewitsons and Forsters are sprinkled here and there, 
and many can be found in Belfast who have arisen to 
a higher standard in this respect than the country in 
general; and the famine, which has been the proof of 
all that is praiseworthy and all that is deficient in 
females, has shown that Belfast has a capital, which when 
employed can be worked to great and good advantage. 
But their late rising and late breakfasts wasted the best 
part of the day ; and their foolish custom, which made 
it approach to vulgarity to give a call before twelve, re¬ 
tarded much that might have been done more easily and 
effectually. It is much to be scrupled whether one arose 
“ while it was yet dark, to prepare meat for her maidens.” 

I spent a day in the Library, which was instituted in 
1788, and now contains 8,000 volumes, without one of 
fiction. Is there another library on the globe that can 
say this ? It speaks more for the good sense and correct¬ 
ness of principle in the people of Belfast than any 
comments or praise whatever can do. I felt, while 
sitting there, that here was an atmosphere of truth, 


OF IRELAND. 


279 


entirely new. What would the reading community of 
all nations be, if youth had access to such libraries as 
these, and to no others ? 

From Belfast I went up the coast of Antrim, visited 
many beautiful towns and places, but all was saddened 
by the desolations of the famine. Industrial schools 
were everywhere showing their happy effects; and 
often by the way-side, in clusters upon a bank, or 
under a tree in some village, were young girls with their 
fancy knitting, sitting pleasantly together, busy at 
their work; and this was a striking fact, that in no case, 
where they were thus employed, did they look untidy; 
though their garments were of the plainest and poorest, 
yet they appeared cleanly. I visited a school at Larne, 
of this description, conducted by a pious widow woman; 
and the arrangement, in all respects, reflected honour 
on the superintendents and teacher. Their reading, 
writing, working, and knowledge of the scriptures, 
manifested great wisdom and faithfulness in the teacher, 
as well as aptness in the scholars. The most useful 
work was done there, and the finest fancy material, 
much of which has been sold in London, at a fair price, 
for the benefit of the poor children. One little girl of 
twelve, by her industry in that school, the preceding 
winter, had kept a family of three or four from the 
poor-house by her fancy knitting, occasionally working 
nearly all night. The father came to the widow with a 
load of turf, to thank her for the instruction of the child, 
which had fed them through the winter, and this small 
token of his gratitude, humble as it was, he hoped she 
would not refuse. These schools, scattered through the 
island, in the midst of the desolating famine, looked, to 
the traveller, like some humble violet or flower, spring¬ 
ing in the desert or prairie, where a scathing fire had 
swept over the plain, and withered all that was most 
prominent to the beholder. Never did I see a company 
of these little ones, at their cheerful work, or have one 
present me with a specimen of her attainments, but the 
unassuming hope-cheered look, eloquently said, “ Will 
you let us live? Will you give us our honest bread, for 


280 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


the willing labour of our hands, and allow us a dwelling- 
place among the nations of the earth 1 ?” Here in these 
pretty towns, along the coast of Antrim, had the poor- 
laws manifested their handy-work. The advice of 
Daniel O’Connell concerning them, was, “If you begin 
to build poorhouses, you had better at once make one 
grand roof over the whole island, for in due time the 
whole country will need a shelter under it.” This pre¬ 
caution was not altogether a random one, for already 
had many of the industrious respectable tradesmen and 
widows, who were keeping lodging-houses, been com¬ 
pelled to give up their business—the taxes had come in 
and taken all within doors, which would sell at auction, 
for the poor-rates. I was directed to a respectable house 
to procure lodgings for a few days ; the disheartened 
widow said, “ Two days ago I could have given you a 
well-furnished bedroom and parlour, but now I have 
neither table, chair, or carpet on the doors ; the money 
was demanded for a new tax just levied, I could not 
raise it, my furniture was taken, and I have no means 
to fetch it back, or to get bread.” She could not expect 
respectable lodgers to stop with her, and saw r nothing 
but hunger or the poorhouse for herself and children. 
Telling her if she would give me a place to lie down, I 
would stop, and give the usual price, she gladly accepted 
it, and the money paid her for this w'as all the means 
she had to get one meal for herself and three children, 
while I was in the house. This was a person of good 
reputation, kept a tidy, w r ell-furnished lodging-house; 
and before the extra taxes had been laid on, had been 
able to put by a little money, but it had all been de¬ 
manded the past year, and the means taken away to 
procure any more. This was the condition of the entire 
country. 

While riding upon the car, the driver pointed to a 
peculiar dwelling, with a sign for refreshment, saying, 
“ The woman here is a lucky one, for she pays no 
rent; if you wish I will stop and let you go in.” 
The entrance was through a door, into a cave, which 
narrowed as it extended back, till it came to a point, 


OF IRELAND. 


281 


and -was very much in the shape of a harrow. A person 
could stand upright at the mouth, but must stoop, and 
then crawl, if he proceeded. The old woman lit up her 
torch, and crept on, insisting that I should follow. The 
passage was so long, dark, and narrow, that paying the 
old woman her expected sixpence, I got excused. She 
had an old bed, lying by the side of one wall of the cave, 
a little table on the other, on which she kept cakes 
and “ the drap of whiskey,” for the traveller ; and she 
told us merrily, that no landlord had disturbed her, and 
she had got the comfortable “ bit” for many a twelve- 
month. Happy old woman ! It is hoped that -when her 
grey hairs shall be removed to a still darker cave, that 
the inheritance will fall to some other houseless head, 
who, like her, shall enjoy unmolested and unenvied 
this happy den, which like comfort few of the poor 
outcasts of Ireland can ever hope to attain. Some of 
the most romantic spots are scattered upon this coast, 
which is for many a mile enlivened by white rocks, and 
small white pebbles, near the sea, so that the whole is so 
inviting, taking sea, rocks, beautiful road, and in many 
places backed by rich woodland, that I left the carriage, 
and loitered among the varying beauties of runningbrooks, 
murmuring cascades, neat cottages and pretty churches, 
and deep green glens. My imagination was inclining 
to drink in the spirit of the simple little boy who ac¬ 
companied me. When looking down from an eminence, 
on the path where we were walking, I saw a crumbling 
stone cabin, deep below me, in so narrow a defile that 
its opposite walls nearly extended to the perpendicular 
hills on each side ; and enquiring of the child who 
could ever build there, expecting to live in it, he simply 
replied, “ Oh, lady ! that is a fairy’s house; the people 
have put on the roof many a time, but at night the 
fairies come and take it off. They live in this glen, 
ma’am.” “ Then the fairies do not like roofs to their 
houses V’ “I ’spose not ma’am.” 

These fairies have doubtless saved many an agent or 
tithe-gatherer a “ good baitin’,” whose cowardly con¬ 
science has come by night to rob some corn or hay-stack 


LIGHTS AND SHADES. 


for his unjust gain. Leaving my little companion, I 
ascended higher and higher, till at my feet far away 
stretched the broad sea ; and about were sprinkled cabins, 
looking like the “ shabby gentility,” which a decayed 
person who had fallen from higher life keeps up. I 
entered one of cleanly appearance, and stumbled upon a 
most frightful sight. A woman with a child on her 
lap gave me an indifferent nod of welcome, and pointed 
to a bed through the door; supposing some starving 
object lay there, I turned to look, and on a bed lay her 
husband, his face uncovered, swollen and black, entirely 
blind, and blood still fresh about his hair and pillow, 
and he speechless. She was alone with him, her infant 
the only inmate : the doctor had just left without dress¬ 
ing his face. 

The story was, two hours before, going to his labour, 
a furious bull had broken from his fastenings and was 
in mad pursuit after a lady, whose screams attracted the 
poor labourer ; he ran with his spade, rushed between 
the horns of the animal and the lady, but could not save 
himself from the bull, who trampled him in the dirt, 
gored his face, broke his upper jaw, and tore apart 
one nostril. Three of the animal’s legs were tied with 
the rope when he accomplished all this. The story 
ended by—“ Thank God the lady was saved, and the 
mad bull shot by the owner,” and not one word of com¬ 
plaint about her husband. When I said, “ What a pity 
that he went near him. “But, ma’am, didn’t he go to 
save the lady, and wouldn’t she been kilt if he hadn’t 
done it.” So much for being a lady in Ireland, and for 
Irish courage and humanity. 

Returning to Belfast, I prepared for Dublin, and 
again sought out old Cook Street; some of my pensioners 
had removed, but none dead : their rent had been left to 
be paid weekly for them, and sufficient knitting given for 
their employ. Another grant was coming for me, to be 
deposited at Belfast, and the expense of transportation 
to Dublin would be such, that it was placed in the trust¬ 
worthy hands of Mrs. Hewitson, who could get it con¬ 
veyed to her destitute people at a smaller expense, when 


OP IRELAND. 


283 


she should return. This donation, she afterwards said 
was eked out for months at the most sparing rate; 
and the only relief she had in her power during the 
following winter season. A box of clothing was in my 
possession, and with this and a little money, I resolved 
to go to the western coast, in Connaught. I went, 
and Connaught will long live in my memory, for there 
are still scenes of suffering , of cruelty , and of patience, 
which no other people yet have shown to the world. 
That people who from the time of the invasion have 
been “ hunted and peeled,” treated as the “ offscouring 
of all things,” driven into “ dens and caves of the earth,” 
as the only shelter, now still live, to hold out to the 
world that lineament of the “image of God,” which is, 
and which must be the everlasting rebuke of their per¬ 
secutors ; which says in the face and eyes of all mankind, 
to their spoilers—“You have hated me, you have robbed 
me, you have shorn me of my beauty; and now, while 
famine is eating up my strength, gnawing my vitals, 
you are turning me into the storm, without food, or 
even “sheep-skins or goat-skins” for a covering; and 
then tauntingly saying, “ Wherein have we robbed you ” 
I took the train at Dublin, for twenty-five miles, and 
then a coach to Tuam, tarried one night. This is the 
residence of Bishop MMIale, and somewhat a respectable 
old town; but the picture of sorrow was here too, and 
the next morning I gladly proceeded to Newport. It 
rained hard, we were on an open car, and the wretched¬ 
ness of the country made it altogether a dismal ride. 
When we had reached a few miles of the town, a dissi¬ 
pated, tattered, and repulsive looking man was seated 
before me on the car, which was not a little annoying, 
for he might be a little intoxicated. “ Has he paid his 
fare,” I asked the coachman, knowing that if he had, 
he had the same right as I had; and still more, it 
would confirm me in the opinion that if he had money 
to pay his ride, he might have money for drink. 
We went on, my unpleasant companion never once 
speaking, till we reached our stopping-place, the Post 
Office, at Newport. Here, at my old tried friends, Mrs. 


284 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


Arthur, I met with a cordial welcome, and getting from 
the car, was still more annoyed to see this out-of-the-way 
companion reach the door before me, and fall prostrate 
in the passage; this was certainly proof that he had 
been taking whiskey, for he did not look like one in the 
last stages of starvation. My severity upon myself was 
equal to my surprise, when we found that it was ex¬ 
haustion occasioned by hunger. When he could speak 
in a whisper, he begged Mrs. Arthur to take a few sove¬ 
reigns, which he had sewed up in his ragged coat, and 
send them to his wife and children, who were suffering 
for food. He had been at work in England, and know¬ 
ing the dreadful state his family were in at home, had 
saved the few sovereigns, not willing to break one, and 
endeavoured to reach home on a few shillings he had, 
and being so weak for want of food, he occasionally rode 
a few miles when it rained, and had not eaten once in 
two days. “Send them quick,” he said, “I shall not live 
to reach home.” 0, shame ! shame! on my wicked 
suspicions ; how should I be thus deceived. I could not , 
I would not forgive myself. His story was a true one, 
and by proper care he lived to follow his sovereigns 
home. 

The astonishing suffering and self-denial of that 
people for their friends, is almost heart-rending. It is 
expected that mothers will suffer, and even die for their 
famishing little ones, if needful; but to see children 
suffer for one another was magnanimity above all. Two 
little orphan boys, one about nine and the other five, 
called at the door of a rich widow of my acquaintance, 
and asked for food. The woman had consumed all her 
bread at breakfast but a small piece, and giving this to 
the eldest, she said, “ You must divide this with your 
little brother ; I have no more.” She looked after them 
unperceived, and saw them stop, when the eldest said, 
“ Here, Johnny, you are littler than I, and cannot bear 
the hunger so well, and you shall have it all.” They 
were both houseless orphans and starving with hunger. 

I found here, at .Newport, misery without a mask; 
the door and window of the kind Mrs. Arthur wore a 


OF IRELAND. 


285 


spectacle of distress indescribable; naked, cold, and dying, 
standing like petrified statues at the window, or imploring, 
for God’s sake, a little food, till I almost wished that I 
might flee into the wilderness, far, far from the abode of 
any living creature. 

Mrs. Arthur said, “ I have one case to place before 
you, and will leave all the rest to your own discretion. 
I have fed a little boy, once a day, whose parents and 
brothers and sisters are dead, with the exception of one 
little sister. The boy is seven years old, the sister five. 
They were told they must make application to the poor- 
house, at Castlebar, which was ten Irish miles away. 
One cold rainy day in November, this boy took his little 
sister by the hand, and faint with hunger, set off for 
Castlebar. And now reader, if you will, follow these little 
hare-footed, hare-headed Connaught orphans through a 
muddy road of ten miles, in a rainy day, without food, 
and see them at the workhouse, late at night. The 
doors are closed—at last, they succeed in being heard. 
The girl is received the boy sent away—no room for him 
—he made his way back to Newport the next morning, 
and had lived by crawling into any place he could at 
night, and once a day called at the door of my friend 
who fed him. 

He soon came, a fine looking boy, with unusually 
matured judgment. The servant was paid for taking him 
into an outhouse and scrubbing him thoroughly, &c. A 
nice black suit of clothes was found in the American 
box, with a cap suited to his head; and when he was 
suitably prepared by the servant, the clothes were put 
on. He had not, probably, been washed for six months, 
and his clothes were indescribable ; his skin, which had 
been kept from wind and sun, by the coat which had so 
long been gathering, was white, and so changed was he 
wholly and entirely, that I paused to look at him ; and 
tied about his neck a pretty silk handkerchief, to finish 
the whole. “What do you say now, my boy; I shall 
burn your old clothes, and you never shall see them 
ao-ain V’ A moment’s hesitation—he looked up, I sup¬ 
posed to thank me, when to my surprise, he burst into 


286 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


an agony of loud weeping. “ Wliat can be tbe matter % ” 
He answered, “ Now I shall sure die with the hunger; if 
they see me with nice clothes on, they will say I tell 
lies, that I have a mother that minds me; and, lady, 
you won’t burn them old clothes,” (turning about to 
gather them up) ; and if I had not sternly commanded 
him to drop them, he would have clasped them close, as 
his best and dearest friends. In truth, this was a new 
development of mind I had never seen before, clinging 
with a firm grasp to a bundle of filthy, forbidding gar¬ 
ments, as the only craft by which to save his life ; choos¬ 
ing uncleanliness to decency, at an age too when all 
the young emotions of pride generally spring up in fond¬ 
ness for new and pretty garments. The silk handker¬ 
chief seemed almost to frighten him. Was it the prin¬ 
ciple of association, which older people experience when 
they cling to objects which have been their companions 
in trial, or those places where they have seen their 
dearest comforts depart % He would not have consented 
to have left those old clothes behind, but by a promise 
which he could hardly believe; that he should be fed 
every day through the winter. He was taken imme¬ 
diately to a school, where the children were fed once a 
day, and instructed for a penny a week ; this penny, the 
teacher said, should not be exacted, as he had been 
clothed by me. I saw the boy through the winter, 
three months after his clothes were tidy and had not 
been torn, and he was improving. 

His fears respecting the “ hungry” were not ground¬ 
less, no stranger would have believed that he needed 
charity, when decently clad. 

From Newport I went to Achill Sound. Here was 
enough to excite the pity and energy of all such as pos¬ 
sessed them. This wild dreary sea-coast at any time 
presents little except its salubrity of air, and grandeur 
of storms and tempests, tempered with the beauty of its 
varied clouds, when lighted by the sun, to make it the 
most inviting spot. But now the work of death was 
going on; and, notwithstanding the exertions of 
Mr. Savage, with the aid of the Central Committee in 


OF IRELAND. 


287 


Dublin, and government relief beside, at times it seemed 
to mock all effort. Mr. Savage seemed to be in the 
position of the “ass colt” in scripture, “tied where two 
ways meet.” He had the island of Achill on one side, 
across the Sound, and a vast bog and mountainous waste 
on the other, with scarcely an inhabitant for many a 
mile, (but the colony of Mr. Nangle,) w’hich could subsist 
only but by charity. The groups which surrounded the 
house, from the dawn of day till dark, called forth the 
incessant labours of many hands, both male and female, 
to appease the pitiful requests multiplying around them. 
Oh ! the scenes of that dreadful winter! Who shall 
depict them, and who that saw them can ever forget ? 
I have looked out at the door of that house, and seen 
from three to five, six, and seven hundred hovering about 
the windows and in the corners, not one woman or child 
having a shoe upon their feet, or a covering upon the 
head, with ghastly, yes, ghostly countenances of hunger 
and despair, that mock all description. One fact among 
the many is recorded, which transpired a few w T eeks before, 
related to me by Mrs. Savage, w r hich had novelties 
peculiar to itself:— 

ABRAHAM AND SARA. 

Mrs. Savage saw standing at her door, among the 
crow r d, while the relief was giving out, a feeble old 
woman, bare-footed, and her feet and legs swollen so 
that they assumed a transparency, wdiicli always indicated 
that death had begun its fatal ravages. She was nearly 
a hundred years of age; her becoming bearing and cleanly 
appearance, united with her age, caused Mrs. S. to 
enquire particularly who she w r as. 

“ Why are you here—do you belong in this parish ? 
You are a stranger !” “I am in troth, a stranger. My 
name is Sara, and have now come into the parish to stop, 
in a little cabin, convenient to ye, and sure ye wont 
refuse the poor owld body a bit of the relief.” 

Abraham, her husband, was sitting upon a form, 
among the crowd, waiting an answer to Sara’s request. 

They were fed, but Sara could not be restored. She 


288 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


often called, on days when the relief was not given out, 
and was once told that she was troublesome ; she ac¬ 
knowledged it in the most simple manner, and in a few 
days ceased coming. 

Not long after Abraham called to say that Sara was 
ill, and had been obliged to leave the cabin where she 
had been stopping, and he had made her a shelter under 
a bank, in the bog, by the strand. She was no longer 
able to walk about, and daily Abraham brought a little 
saucepan, suspended by a cord for a handle, to get the 
broth, which Mrs. S. provided for his beloved Sara. He 
said he “had made her as comfortable as his owld hands 
could, but the breath would soon be cowld in her, for she 
could scarcely lift the hand to raise the broth to the lip.” 
This bed was made in the bog, within a few yards of the 
sea, but sheltered from its spray by a bank, under which 
a narrow place had been dug by Abraham, which partly 
covered Sara. Heath was put down for her bed, and 
pieces of turf for her pillow; a wall of turf a few inches 
high extended round, making the shape of a bed, against 
the side of which was a fire of turf, made to warm 
the broth ; and this was Abraham and Sara’s house. 
Abraham’s part was wholly unsheltered. For days she 
was nursed in the most careful manner; her cloak was 
wrapped snugly about her; the heath under her was 
smoothed, and her broth carried by Abraham ; and he 
even washed her garments in the sea, “ for Sara,” he 
said, “ loves to be clean.” In spite of all his care the 
life of Sara was fast ebbing; and Mary A., who had 
seen before the bed where she lay, called one evening 
and found her much altered. She raised her up, gave 
her a little milk, which she could scarcely swallow. 
“I am departing,” she whispered, “and will ye give my 
blessin’ to the mistress ?” She had come into the parish, 
she said, to die, because “ she knew the mistress would 
put a coffin on her owld body.” While Mary was here, 
Abraham hastened to Mrs. S. to procure som§ necessaries 
for the night; then returning, he sat by the side of 
Sara till she died. He was sitting alone, by her lifeless 
body, when Mary returned in the morning. The mistress 


OF IRELAND. 


289 


was soon there. She had ordered a coffin, and brought 
a sheet to wrap around her body, and a handkerchief 
to put about her head. Mary washed and combed her, 
and found in her pocket a piece of white soap, carefully 
wrapped in a linen rag, and a clean comb, w-hich were 
all that appertained to Sara of this world’s wealth, 
except the miserable garments she had upon her. When 
the body was shrouded, it was placed in her coffin of 
white boards; a boatman and Mary lifted her into a 
boat; Abraham and the mistress seated themselves in it, 
and were rowed to land, and put the remains of Sara 
in an out-house belonging to Mr. Savage, for the night, 
and a comfortable place was provided for Abraham to 
lie down. Early in the morning Abraham was found 
sitting on the cart, which bore Sara from the boat, with 
his grey head leaning against the locked door, weeping. 
He had waited till all was still, and then crept to the 
spot which enclosed the remains of her he loved, to weep 
alone, in the stillness of night. Not one that saw him 
but wept too. 

This simple-hearted man, like the patriarch whose 
name he bore, was a stranger and sojourner, like him 
he had come to mourn for Sara, and he had come 
too to ask a burial-place for his dead, though he could 
not, like him, offer a sum of money; he could not 
take his choice in the sepulchres ; no field of Ephron, 
nor the trees within were made sure to him, but in a 
lone bog, where those who had died by famine and 
pestilence were buried, like dogs, unshrouded and un¬ 
coffined, he was grateful to find a place to bury his 
“ dead out of his sight.’' The corpse was borne away 
by a few boatmen across the channel; and Sara w r as 
conveyed to her long home. I saw Abraham early in 
December, 1847, and the bed which he made for Sara, 
on that bleak sea-shore. The turf wall was still unbroken; 
the smoke, where the fire had been made, had left its 
blackness; and a piece of turf, partly consumed, was 
lying by this hearth ; the heath-bed had not been stirred, 
and I begged Mrs. S. to keep it from the inroad of 
cattle. A wall of stone should be built around that 


o 


200 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


dwelling, and the traveller pointed to it, as a relic of the 
greatest interest .—A relic of Ireland 9 s v)oes ! 

It is said that Sara, in her father’s house, was “fair 
to look upon,” and enjoyed in plenty the good things of 
this life ; and, says Mrs. S., “when first I saw her the 
sun was shining in full strength upon her marble face ; 
and so swollen its wrinkles were smoothed; her coun¬ 
tenance was mild, her manner modest and pleasing, and 
she was an object of much admiration. She lay in that 
lowly bed in storm and sunshine, by night and by day, 
till the “good God,” as she expressed it, “should plaise 
to take her away yet lowly as was her couch, lonely as 
was her wake, unostentatious as was her burial, few, in 
her condition, were honoured with so good a one. 

In the same vicinity was the bed of a little orphan 
girl, who had crept into a hole in the bank, and died 
one night, with no one to spread her heath-bed, or to 
close her eyes, or wash and fit her for the grave. She 
died unheeded, the dogs lacerated the body, gnawed the 
bones, and strewed them about the bog. 

DEATH AND BURIAL OF ABRAHAM. 

Abraham called one day in December, at the house of 
Mr. Savage, and sorrow and hunger had greatly changed 
his looks. His garments which had been kept tidy by 
Sara, were now going to decay. He stood silently at 
the door, with a subdued look, with a little brown bag 
and staff in his hand. I saw him there, and among the 
throng marked his shades of sorrow, and inquired who 
he was. “It is Abraham, the old hands that made Sara's 
bed," was the answer. 

Abraham knew and felt the change in himself, and 
seeking an opportunity, asked for a piece of soap, touch¬ 
ing his collar, which Sara had always kept clean, saying, 
“ 1 do not like the feel of it.” Food and a little money 
were given him : he went away, and on his boggy path 
to his humble home he fell down and broke his arm; 
he lingered on a few days in destitution and pain, ancl 
the next that we heard of him, two men who were walk¬ 
ing towards sunset on Sabbath day, met his daughter 


OF IRELAND. 


291 


who had a shelter in the mountain, where she had kept 
her father, with Abraham upon her back, with his arms 
about her neck, a loathsome corpse, which she had kept 
in her cabin for days, and was going alone with a spade 
in her hand the distance of an Irish mile, to bury him. 
They took the corpse and accompanied her, and put 
him into the ground as he was, neither with a coffin nor 
by the side of Sara whom he had loved and cherished so 
well. 

Thus died Sara and Abraham, and thus they w r ere 
buried, and let their epitaph be—“ Lovely and pleasant 
in their lives, though in death they were divided.” 

DRINKING HABITS. 

Let the reader’s mind be a little relieved by a subject 
different, though as painful in a moral sense as famine 
is in a natural one. I allude to the fearful sinful use 
of all kinds of intoxicating drinks in Ireland in the 
time of the famine. Much noise has been made the 
last nine or ten years respecting the great temperance 
reform in that country. But who have been re¬ 
formed h Travel the length and breadth of the island, 
even in the midst of desolation and death, and in 
how many families when a piece of flesh meat can be 
afforded upon the dinner-table, would the tea-kettle for 
hot whiskey be wanting at the close of dinner 1 The 
more costly wines, too, were on the tables of the nobility, 
and not always wanting among the gentry. The clergy 
of all denominations, in that country, are sad examples 
to the flock. Father Mathew is praised by some of these 
Bible ministers, because he kept the “ lower order” from 
fighting at fairs; but the very fact that the vulgar were 
reclaimed, was a stigma upon temperance in their en¬ 
lightened opinions. Four years and four months’ resi¬ 
dence in Ireland, changing from place to place, and 
meeting with many ministers of all denominations, not 
a solitary case do I recollect of finding a minister of 
the Established, Presbyterian, or Methodist church, who 
did not plead for the moderate use of this fatal poison. 


292 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


I met with one Baptist minister, one Unitarian, and a 
few priests, who abstained entirely. 

The famine, if possible, urged many of the lovers of 
the “good creature,” to greater diligence in the practice, 
to “ keep themselves up,” as they said, in these dreadful 
times. They preached sermons on charity—they urged 
the people to greater self-denial—they talked of the 
great sin of improvidence, of which Ireland is emphati¬ 
cally guilty; hut few, very few, it is to be feared touched 
one of these burdens so much as with one of their fingers. 
There were noble cases of hard labour, and even curtail¬ 
ing of expenses, by some of the clergy ; even labour was 
protracted till it ended in death by some, but these 
were isolated cases indeed. 

An able writer, who wrote the pamphlet on Irish 
Improvidence , placed the subject in the most fearful 
light, when he said, “ Next to the absurdity of Cork and 
Limerick exporting cargoes of Irish grain for sale, and 
at the same time receiving cargoes of American grain to 
be given away at the cost of the English people, may be 
ranked the folly—if it may not properly be called by 
some worse name—of seeing hundreds dying for want 
of food, at the same time permitting the conversion of as 
much grain as would feed the whole of those dying of 
starvation, and many more, into a fiery liquid, which it is 
well known, even to the distillers themselves, never saved 
a single life or improved a single character, never pre¬ 
vented a single crime, or elevated the character of a 
single family by its use.” 

Reader, ponder this well.—Enough grain, converted 
into a poison for body and soul, as would have fed all 
that starving multitude ; while the clergy were preach¬ 
ing, committees were in conclave, to stimulate to charity, 
and devise the most effectual methods to draw upon the 
purses of people abroad. 

And what shall be said of the pitiful landlords, who 
were still drinking their wine, pouring their doleful 
complaints into government’s ears, that no rents were 
paid ; and many saying, as one of these wine-bibbers did, 
that his lazy tenants would not work for pay, for he had 


OF IRELAND. 


293 


offered that morning, some men work who were hungry, 
and would pay them at night, and they walked away 
without accepting it. u How much pay did you offer V’ 
he was asked. A pound of Indian meal,” (Indian meal 
was then a penny a pound.) “ Would you, sir, work for 
that, and wait till night for the meal, when you were 
then suffering 'l ” Much better try to procure it before 
night in some easier way. 

But these afflicted landlords, the same writer remarks, 
were exporting to the continent vast quantities of grain, 
which their poor starving tenants had laboured to pro¬ 
cure, and were not allowed to eat a morsel of this food; 
but buy it from others or starve. Neither can it be 
doubted, nor should it be concealed, that not a few of 
these landlords, while their grain was selling at a good 
price abroad, shared the benefit of many an Indian meal 
donation, for horses, hogs, fowls, and servants. The 
guilty are left to make the application, none others are 
implicated. 

I would not say that every man who takes a glass of 
spirits, as he says, moderately , is guilty of downright 
dishonesty, or not to be trusted with the property of 
others ; but it may properly be said, that such are in the 
path to the hot bed where every evil work is cultivated; 
and, therefore, more to be scrupled than those who from 
conscience would “ cut off a right arm or pluck out a 
right eye,” rather than give offence. 

Had all the professed Christians in Ireland, entirely 
excluded alcoholic drinks from their tables and houses, 
thousands might now be living who have been starved. 

I was once in a miserable part of the country, where 
death was doing a fearful work, and was stopping in a 
house ranked among the respectables, when a company 
of ministers, who had been attending a public meeting in 
the town, were assembled for dinner. The dinner was 
what is generally provided for ministers—the richest and 
best. Wine and brandy were accompaniments. When 
these heralds of salvation heard a word of remonstrance, 
they put on the religious cant, and cited me imme¬ 
diately and solemnly the “ Marriage of Cana,” and the 


294 : 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


tribunal of Timothy’s stomach for my doom; declaring 
that God sanctioned, yea required it; and ratified it by 
taking in moderation what their conscience told them 
was duty. They were pointed directly to the suffering of 
the people for bread, and the great difficulty of procur¬ 
ing coffins, all this did not move their brandy-seared 
hearts. When in an hour after dinner the tea was 
served, as is the custom in Ireland, one of the daughters 
of the family passing a window, looked down upon the 
pavement and saw a corpse with a blanket spread over 
it, lying upon the walk beneath the window. It was a 
mother and infant, dead, and a daughter of sixteen had 
brought and laid her there, hoping to induce the people 
to put her in a coffin; and as if she had been listening to 
the conversation at the dinner of the want of coffins, 
she had placed her mother under the very window and 
eye, where these wine-bibbing ministers might apply the 
lesson. All was hushed, the blinds were immediately 
down, and a few sixpences were quite unostentatiously 
sent out to the poor girl, as a beginning, to procure a 
coffin. The lesson ended here. 

And I would conclude this episode by saying, that at 
the door of professed Christians of the intelligent class, 
lies the sin of intemperance in that suffering country, 
and though some of them have preached and laboured 
hard in those dark days, yet they have not done what 
they could, and in this they should not be commended ; 
but rebuked most faithfully. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

“ However darkly stained by sin, 

He is thy brother yet.” 

It was at the house of Mr. Savage, at the Sound, where 
I first met with the Hon. William Butler. He insisted 
on my going to Erris, as a spot of all others the most 
wretched, offering kindly to pay my passage in an open 



OP IRELAND. 


295 


boat, which was to take him there. We went: he 
observed on the passage, that he had always feared the 
water, and would prefer any death almost to that of 
drowning. He was drowned the next season while on a 
visit to the continent 

We reached Belmullet; he secured me a lodging ; but 
the rector called and invited me to spend the time at his 
house, and I did so. But here was a place which might 
justly be called the “fag-end” of misery. It seemed to 
be a spinning out of all that was fearful in suffering, 
and whoever turned his eye there needed no other point 
of observation, to see all that famine and pestilence 
could do. It appeared like a vast crucible, where had 
been concocted all that was odious , all that was suffering / 
and which had been emptied, leaving the dregs of the 
mass unfit for any use. 

Well did James Tuke say, in his graphic description 
of Erris, that he had visited the wasted remnants of the 
once noble Bed Man, in North America, and the “negro- 
quarter” of the degraded and enslaved African; but 
never had he seen misery so intense, or physical degra¬ 
dation so complete, as among the dwellers in the bog- 
holes of Erris. 

“ Figure and mien, complexion and attire, 

Are leagued to strike dismay.” 

The few resident landlords in this barony, containing 
in the year 1846, a population of 28,000, were now re¬ 
duced, by the extreme poverty of the tenantry, to a state 
of almost hopeless desperation. The poor-house was a 
distance of forty miles to Ballina ; and the population 
since the famine was reduced to 20,000—10,000 of these 
on the extreme borders of starvation—crawling about 
the streets—lying under the windows of such as had 
a little food, in a state of almost nudity. Being situated 
on the north-east coast of Mayo, it has the Atlantic 
roaring and dashing upon two sides of it; and where 
the wretched dwellers of its coasts are hunting for sea¬ 
weed, sand-eels, &c., to appease their hunger, and where 
in many cases, I truly thought that man had nearly 


296 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


lost the image in which he was created. This coast is 
noted for shipwrecks; and many of the inhabitants, in 
former days, have subsisted very comfortably upon the 
spoils. 

A Mrs. D. called one morning to take a walk with 
me upon a part of the sea-coast, called “ Cross.” 
Nature here seemed to have put on her wildest dress, 
for in the whole barony of Erris there is but one tree, 
and that a stinted one; and this barony extends thirty- 
five miles. But here our walk seemed to be through 
something unlike all I had seen. In some places 
nature appeared like a maniac, who, in her ravings, had 
dishevelled her locks and tattered her garments. In 
others, she puts on a desponding look, as if almost de¬ 
spairing, yet not unwilling to be restored, if there were 
any to comfort her; in others, the bold cliffs dashed by 
the maddening waves, seemed like a lion rising from his 
lair, and going forth in fury for his prey. Three miles 
presented us with grand, beautiful, and painful scenes ; 
the air was salubrious—the sun was bright; the unroofed 
cabins silent and dreary, told us that the ejected inmates 
were wandering shelterless or dead, many of whom were 
buried under the ruins, who were found starved in a 
putrid state; and having no coffins, the stones of the 
cabins were tumbled upon them. Mrs. L>. was one of those 
sensitive beings who are capable of enjoying the beauties 
of nature, and capable too of suffering most keenly. 
She had tasted deeply of sorrow—was a new-made 
widow—her mother had died but a few months previous 
—an adopted child, a lovely niece of ten years old had 
died a few weeks before. As we neared the burying- 
ground she pointed to the spot, saying, “ There I put 
her, my fair blossom ; and there, by her side, I put her 
uncle,” (meaning her husband,) “ five weeks after ; but 
you must excuse me from taking you there, for I could 
not venture myself where they lie, because they will give 
me no welcome, nor speak a kind word, as they used to 
do.” We passed over sand-banks and ditches, to the 
cottage where her father and mother had lived and died, 
leaving two sisters and two brothers on the paternal 


OF IRELAND. 


297 


estate. The cottage had no wicket-gate, no flowers nor 
shrubs; but standing upon the margin of the lake, it 
seemed modestly to say “ Walk in, my comforts shall be 
equal to all I have promised.” The interior was neat. 
Here were the remains of an ancient family, who had 
“lived to enjoy,” who could walk or ride, could entertain 
guests in true Irish hospitality, for many a century back ; 
but death had removed the head of the family; famine 
had wasted the tenantry; the fields were neglected; 
“and here, said the sister who kept the cottage, “we 
are sitting as you see, with little to cheer us, and less 
to hope for the future.” We visited the churchyard, 
which my companion thought she could not see—a 
brother offered to be her companion—and we found it 
upon a rising hillock, by the sea-side ; it was a protes- 
tant one, and a snug church had stood near; but the 
landholder, Mr. Bingham, had caused it to be taken 
down, and another built in a town or village called 
Bingham’s town. Here was another specimen of the 
peculiar grave-yards on the sea-coast of Ireland. The 
better class have a monument of rough stones put over 
the whole surface of the grave, elevated a few feet, and 
cemented with mortar. The poorer class must be content 
to lie under a simple covering of rough stones, without 
being elevated or cemented. We waited a few moments 
till the sister, who sat down upon the grave of the little 
one, had indulged her grief for the two departed, and 
I only heard her say, “ Ah ! and you will not speak to 
me.” An ancient Abbey was near, said to be 1000 years 
old; and so closely had the catholics buried their dead 
there that it appeared, at a little distance, like one vast 
pile of stones tumbled together. The protestants and 
Bomanists do not choose to place their dead in contact; 
aDd these, two were distinct; but they, also, had their 
“ respectable monuments,” for we saw, on a nearer ap¬ 
proach, that this grave-yard had elevated cemented 
tombstones ; the ground was high, and no walls, but 
the roaring old sea upon one side—which sometimes 
boldly reaches out and snatches a sleeper from his bed. 
The scattered bones that lay about, told that it must 

o 3 


298 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


long have been the “place of skulls.” The last year 
had made great accessions to the pile, which could easily 
be known by their freshness, and ropes of straw and 
undried grass brought here by relatives, to put over the 
uncoffined bodies of their friends. Here were deposited 
five or six sailors, belonging to a vessel from Greenock, 
which was wrecked on this coast the preceding spring. 
The bodies washed ashore, and a brother of the lady 
with me dug a pit and put them in, spreading over their 
faces the skirt of one of their overcoats, “ to screen,” as 
he said, “the cruel clay from their eyes.” These poor 
sailors, unknown and unwept, were buried by the hand 
of a stranger, on a foreign shore; but somewhere they 
might have had mothers, who waited and asked in vain 
for the absent ship. 

As these sailors have no monument to tell their 
parentage, let it be recorded here, that in the spring of 
1847, a vessel was wrecked on the desolate coast of Erris, 
and every soul on board was lost. The vessel sailed 
from Greenock in Scotland. While sitting in the cot¬ 
tage, in the evening, the lady who accompanied me 
brought a lid of a box, which was taken from among the 
wreck of that lost ship, and on it was written :—“ Soda 

Biscuit, by-, Corner of Beckman and Cliff Street, 

New York.” The name was so defaced it could not be 
made out. This added new interest to the shipwreck, 
when meeting an inscription from the street where I had 
lived and the shop in which I had traded, and was told 
that the vessel was freighted with provisions for the 
starving of Ireland. This was a mistake. 

In the morning, when the sun was rising, we ascended 
a hill, among the desolate cabins, where once was the 
song of health, and where far off in the west, the sea 
stretched wide, and the variegated clouds gilded with 
the morning sun, were dipping apparently in its waters. 
This, said a daughter of the family, was once a pretty 
and a grand spot; here, two years ago, these desolate 
fields were cultivated, and content and cheerfulness were 
in every cabin. Now, from morning to night they wander 
in search of a turnip, or go to the sea for sea-weed to 



OF IRELAND. 


299 


"boil, and often have we found a corpse at the door, 
that the brother you see “might put a board on ’em.” 
We have often seen an ass passing our window carry¬ 
ing a corpse, wound about with some old remnant of 
a blanket or sheet; and thus, flung across its back, a 
father or mother, wife or husband, was carried to the 
grave. Sometimes, when the corpse was a little child, 
or it might be more than one, they were put into a 
couple of baskets, and thus balanced upon the sides of 
the ass, this melancholy hearse proceeded on without a 
friend to follow it, but the one who was guiding the 
beast. These burials tell more of the paralysing effects 
of famine than anything else can do; for the Irish in 
all ages, have been celebrated for their attention to the 
interment of their dead, sparing no expense. 

When I stood in the burying-ground in that parish, 
I saw the brown silken hair of a young girl, waving 
gently through a little cleft of stones, that lay loosely 
upon her young breast. They had not room to put her 
beneath the surface, but slightly, and a little green grass 
was pulled and spread over, and then covered with 
stones. I never shall forget it. 

“ The blast of the desert comes, 

Her loose hair flew on the wind.” 

In some parts the soil was manured with the slain. 
When the famine first commenced, efforts were made 
to procure coffins; but the distress became so great 
to the living, that every penny that could be procured 
must be given for food; and the famished relatives, at 
last, were grateful if some hand stronger than theirs 
would dig the pit, and put down the uncofhned body. 

One sabbath, when I was in Erris, the day was so 
stormy that the church service was suspended. A bare¬ 
footed woman, who one year before had called to sell 
milk and kept a fine dairy, came into the house where 
I was, and calling me by name, said; “Will ye give 
me something to buy a coffin to put on my husband ; 
lie died yesterday on me, and it would be a pity to 
put him in the ground without a board, and he is so 


300 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


swelled, ma’am, not a ha’porth of his legs or belly but is 
ready to burst, and but a five-pence-halfpenny could I 
gather, and the little boys are ashamed to go out and 
ask the charity for him.” 

This is an illustration not only of the state into which 
famine has thrown the country, but the apathy of feel¬ 
ing which the most tender-hearted people on the globe 
manifested. A woman compelled to go out in a most 
perilous storm, upon a wild sea-coast, unprotected by 
clothes, and without a morsel of food for twenty-four 
hours, to procure a coffin for her husband, who had died 
by starvation! 

THE SOLDIERS OF BELMULLET. 

Among the marvels and dreadfuls of Erris, the Queen’s 
soldiers certainly deserve a place in history. Govern¬ 
ment in her mercy had deposited in a shop some tons of 
Indian meal, to be sold or given out, as the Commissariat 
should direct, for the benefit of the people. This meal 
was in statu quo, and hunger was making fearful in¬ 
roads. 151 soldiers, cap-a-pie, were marching before 
and around this shop, with bayonets erect, from early 
dawn till late in “ dusky eve,” to guard this meal. They 
certainly made a warlike bloody looking array, when 
contrasted with the haggard, meagre, squalid skeletons 
that were grouped in starving multitudes about them, 
who, if the whole 10,000 starving ones in the Barony 
had been disposed to rise en masse, scarcely had strength 
to have broken open a dcor of the shop, or to have 
knocked down a soldier; but here they were, glis¬ 
tening in bright armour, and the people dying with 
hunger about it. These soldiers were alive to their 
duty on all and every occasion. One sabbath morning 
when the church prayers were in full progress, they 
marched up under arms, with fife and drum playing 
merrily the good old tune of “Rory O’More.” The 
modest rector suspended operations, the congregation in 
breathless silence, most of them arose from their seats; 
the army entered, doffed their caps, planted their arms, 
and quietly, if not decently, took their seats, and sat till 


OF IRELAND. 


301 


prayers and sermon were ended; as soon as “Old Hundred” 
closed the worship, these soldiers resumed their arms, 
and the musicians, upon the threshold of the door, struck 
up “ The Girl I Left Behind Me and the congregation 
a little confused, walked out. I never heard it applauded 
nor never heard it censured, hut by one. To say the 
least of the morality of Erris, their drinking, and card¬ 
playing, and dancing habits, would well comport with 
the army or navy; but they were quite in advance of 
any thing I had seen in any part of Ireland. Here I 
saw the cobweb covering flung about fallen man, to hide 
his deformity, torn aside, and scarcely a vestige was 
there of beauty, amiability, or even decency left. 

The hotel keeper was in the habit of collecting a few 
shillings from lodgers and travellers, and distributing 
them in pennies, to the starving, in the morning. These 
recipients were as ravenous as hungry lions and 
tigers, as void of reason, and more disgusting to the 
sight. If man is to be guided by reason, then when 
reason is extinct, upon what can he fall back ? If the 
instinct that is planted in man is the image of God, in 
which He is made, then where this God is extinguished 
there can be nothing but a wreck—a mass of neither 
man or brute ; for if he have lost the image of God, and 
has not the instinct of animals, he stands out an un¬ 
natural growth, to be wondered at rather than admired. 
I could scarcely believe that these creatures were my 
fellow-beings. Never had I seen slaves so degraded; 
and here 1 learnt that there are many pages in the 
volume of slavery, and that every branch of it proceeds 
from one and the same root, though it assumes different 
shapes. These poor creatures are in as virtual bondage 
to their landlords and superiors as is possible for mind 
or body to be. They cannot work unless they bid them ; 
they cannot eat unless they feed them; and they cannot 
get away unless they help them. 

From Belmullet, Rosport was my destiny, a distance 
of twelve miles—a romantic place on the sea-coast, 
where resided three families of comparative comfort; 
but their comforts were threatened most fearfully by the 


302 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


dreadful scourge; fever was everywhere, and hunger 
indeed had filled a grave-yard, which lay at the foot of a 
mountain, so full that scarcely any distinction could be 
seen of graves, but now and then a stick at the head or 
foot of one. By the road-side a family of four or five 
had made a temporary shelter, waiting for a son to die, 
whom they had brought some miles across the mountains, 
that he might he buried in a grave-yard where the 
dogs would not find him, as there Avas a wall about this. 
He died of consumption, and the family were fed while 
there, and then went away when they had buried their 
boy. The family of Samuel Bourne were the most 
comfortable, but they had a burden like an incubus, 
with the mass of starving creatures. Mr. Carey, the 
Coast Guard, was kind, and his wife and daughters 
patterns of industry and attention to the poor ; but with 
limited means, what could they do to stay the plague. 
Everything that could be eaten was sought out and 
devoured, and the most hazardous attempts Avere made 
to appease hunger by the people. This coast has some 
of the greatest objects of curiosity; and so long have the 
inhabitants been accustomed to look at them, that they 
walk fearlessly upon the dangerous precipices, and even 
descend them to the sea, in search of eggs, which the sea¬ 
gulls deposit there, in the sides of the cliffs. Two ■women 
presumptuously descended one of these cliffs, not far 
from Mr. Carey’s, in search of sloke, which is gathered 
from the sea. They, in their hunger, ventured to stop 
till the tide washed in and swept them away. Two men 
were dashed from a fearful height and dreadfully man¬ 
gled ;—one was killed instantly—the other lingered a few 
weeks and died. They were both in search of eggs, to 
appease hunger. They seemed to face danger in a most 
deliberate manner, and go where none but the goat or 
eagle would venture. In this parish I found a specimen 
of that foolish pride and inability of a class of genteel 
Irish women, to do anything when difficulties present 
themselves. It was a young lady who lived back two miles 
upon the mountain, who belonged to one of the faded 
Irish “ respectablesshe was educated in the popular 


OF IRELAND. 


303 


genteel superficial style, and the family had some of them 
died, and all broken down : she, with her brother-in-law, 
from Dublin, was staying in a thatched cottage, which 
had yet the remains of taste and struggling gentility. 
Two of the peasant women had seen Mr. Bourne and 
me going that way, and by a shorter path they had 
hastened and given the Miss notice, so that when we 
entered the cottage was in trim, and she in due order to 
receive us. But that pitiful effort was to me 'painful 
to witness, having been told that she suffered hunger, 
and knew no possible way of escape, yet she assumed a 
magnanimity of spirit and complained not, only ex¬ 
pressed much pity for the poor tenants on the land about 
her, and begged us if possible that we would send some 
relief. Her table was spread with the fashionable orna¬ 
ments which adorn the drawing-rooms of the rich ; and 
she, with a light scarf hung carelessly about her shoulders, 
genteel in form and pretty in feature, was already 
looking from eyes that were putting on the famine stare. 
“ What can be done with that helpless, proud, interesting 
girl,” said Mr. Bourne, as we passed away, “ she must 
die in all her pride, if some relief is not speedily found ! 
She cannot work, she would not go to the work-house, 
and there, upon that desolate mountain, she will probably 
pine away unheeded !” I have not heard what became 
of this pretty girl of the mountain since. “ She was 
covered with the light of beauty, but her heart was the 
house of pride.” Another interesting character, the 
antipodes of the mountain girl, resided in the family of 
Mr. Bourne. Nature had endowed her with good sense, 
education had enlarged her intellect, and travelling had 
given her that ease of manner and address that made 
her accessible to all, without stooping from that dignity 
which properly repels all uncourteous familiarity. She 
had passed through great reverses :—had been to India— 
there had a handsome legacy bequeathed—was ship¬ 
wrecked and lost all;—went to South and North Ame¬ 
rica —her health was destroyed, but her heart subdued, 
and brought into sweet submission to Christ, and she re¬ 
solved to spend the remainder of her days in doing good 


304 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


to others, however humble their station might be. She 
had heard of this family, stationed on this desolate spot, 
who had interesting sons and daughters that wished for 
instruction. There she went, and determined to die 
and be buried there, secluded from the world. She had 
written her travels, but had placed her manuscripts in 
hands who were not to publish them till after her death. 
On that bleak coast she had found where a company 
of seventeen shipwrecked sailors had been buried, in 
a mound, and she had requested to lie near their 
resting-place. She took me to walk, and shewed me 
the forbidding looking spot. I could scarcely think 
her sincere, but she assured me that it was a lovely spot 
to her. She was then perhaps not yet fifty, and why she 
should think of soon dying and lying there I could not 
tell; but the intelligent and accomplished Miss Wilson 
died in a few months after, in the full hope of a happy 
immortality, and was buried with the shipwrecked sailors, 
on that rocky coast. 

“ She sleeps in unenvied repose, and I would not wake her.” 

Here in a humble cabin the kind Miss Carey com¬ 
menced a little school, to do what she could to keepalive 
the scattered lambs of that desolate parish, in order that 
she might give them, through some relief society, a little 
food once a day, and teach them to read. Her cabin 
was soon filled, and without the promise of any reward 
she laboured on, happy to see the avidity with which 
these poor children received instruction, and for a year 
she continued her labour of love with but little remunera¬ 
tion, and at last, with much regret, was obliged to return 
them to their mountain home—perhaps to perish. It was 
affecting everywhere in the famine, to witness the pale 
emaciated children, walking barefoot for miles to school, 
and study and work till three o’clock, for the scanty 
meal of stirabout, or piece of bread. Dr. Edgar had 
established an industrial school among the tenantry of 
Samuel Bourne, but when I visited it no other instruction 
had been given but knitting and sewing. It was at 
Samuel Bourne’s that I met with James Tuke, whose 


OF IRELAND. 


305 


faithful researches and candid recitals of the state of 
Erris and Connaught have lived and will live, in spite of 
all opposition. I rode with him from Rosport to Ballina, 
and many a poor suffering one received not only a kind 
word, but a shilling or half-crown, as we passed along. 
His friendship for Ireland overlooked all accidental 
discrepancies in that misjudged people, and from effects 
he went to causes, and placed the defects at the door 
of the lawful owner. My stay in the pretty town of 
Ballina was a short one, and again I reached the dismal 
Belmullet. Drinking and its sad concomitants were every¬ 
where manifest; not among the “ vulgar lower order,” 
but the “ respectable'’ class. The sad fate of a protestant 
curate, who was in the asylum, is well known, as well as 
that of the hotel keeper, who died shortly after my visit 
there. 

A fresh curate had been stationed in Belmullet, and 
his prudent sober course indicated good. Three miles 
from the town lived a single lady, who went by the name 
of the Queen of Erris, on account of some clever doings 
in a court; and one sunny morning I took a walk to 
her dwelling near the sea. A sight which had never 
before fallen to my lot to witness, was here in progress. 
Two well-dressed men, mounted on fine horses, furnished 
with pistols, accompanied by a footman, passed, and 
turned into a miserable hamlet, and instantly all was in 
motion ; every man, woman and child who had strength 
to walk was out. Soon I perceived the footman driving 
cows and sheep into the main road, while the armed 
gentry kept all opposition at bay, by showing that death 
was in their pistols if any showed resistance. It was a 
most affecting sight. Some were clasping their hands, 
dropping upon their knees, and earnestly imploring the 
good God to save them the last cow, calf, or sheep, for 
their hungry little ones; some were standing in mute 
despair, as they saw their only hope departing, while 
others followed in mournful procession, as the cattle and 
sheep were all gathered from every field in the parish, 
and congregated at the foot of a hill, where the brisk 
“ drivers” had collected them, to take them in a flock to 


306 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


tlie town. My visit to the Queen was postponed. I fol¬ 
lowed in that procession ; a long hill was before us, the 
sun was shining upon the clearest sky, and lighted up a 
company which illy contrasted with that of Jacob, when 
he went out to meet his angry brother Esau. The flocks 
and herds might be as beautiful; but the warlike drivers, 
and ragged, hungry, imploring oppressed ones that fol¬ 
lowed, could hardly claim a standing with Jacob and his 
family. The hill was ascended, and the poor people 
halted and looking a sad adieu turned back : and a few 
exclaimed, “ We’re lawst, not a ha’porth have the black¬ 
guards left to a divil of us,” others spoke not, and a few 
were weeping. Death must now be their destiny. 

All returned but one boy, whose age was about four¬ 
teen years ; he stood as if in a struggle of feeling, till the 
people had gone from his sight, and the “ drivers” were 
descending the hill on the other side. Instantly he 
rushed between the “ drivers” and flock, and before the 
mouth of these loaded pistols he ran among the cattle, 
screaming, and put the whole flock in confusion, running 
hither and thither, the astonished “ drivers” threatening 
death. The boy heeding nothing but the main'point, scat¬ 
tered and routed the whole flock ; the people heard the 
noise and ran, the “ drivers” whether in astonishment, 
or whether willing to show lenity, (let their own hearts 
judge,) rode away, the inhabitants exulted, and the flock 
were soon in the enclosures of the owners. But that 
noble-minded heroic boy was the wonder ; facing danger 
alone, and saving for a whole parish what a whole 
parish had not dared to attempt'? His name should 
never be forgotten, and a pension for life is his due. 

A letter is here inserted, which will show faintly the 
manner of distributing donations, and the habits of the 
people. 

11 Belmullety October 30th, 1847. 

“ My Dear Sii$, —Please prepare yourself. I am about apply¬ 
ing some of those “ offensive points” in my character, which 
I so eminently possess ; and which may require uot only your 
true clarity, but untiring patience, to plod through. I have 
been riding and walking through desolate Kiris, and in worse 


OP IRELAND. 


307 


than despair, if possible, have sat down, asking, What am I 
to do ? What can I do 2 

“ Every effort of the friends of Ireland is baffled by the de¬ 
moralizing effects that feeding a starving peasantry without 
labour has produced. And now the sound again is echoing 
and re-echoing, that on the 1st of November, the boilers upon 
mountain and in glen would be foaming and splashing with 
Indian meal; while the various idlers shall have nothing to 
do but fight their way over necks of old women and starved 
children, missiles of policemen, elboAvs and fists of aspirants, 
to secure the lucky hodge-podge into can and noggin, pot 
and bucket; and trail over ditch and through bog, from a 
quarter-of-a-mile to five, as his hap may be; then to sit down 
in his mud-built cabin, sup and gulp down the boon, lie down 
upon his straw till the hour of nine or ten will again summon 
him to the next warlike encounter. 

“Indeed, sir, your friend who was last here said he could 
think of nothing better, than to take up a turf cabin with its 
inmates and appurtenances, and set it down in England. I 
can outdo him in invention. I would take some half-dozen 
of your George Thompsons—if so many truly independent 
members you have—and would transport them through the 
waste lands of Erris, and seat them snugly around a boiler 
under full play. They should sit unobserved, and see the 
whole working of the machinery. The array et rags—each 
equipped with his canteen to hold his precious gift, should 
approach ; the ghastly features, staring eyes, bony fingers, 
slender legs ; in fact, ghosts and hobgoblins, hags and imps, 
should draw near, the fighting and tearing, tumbling and 
scratching should commence and go on, till the boiler was 
emptied, and these fac similes of fighting dogs, tigers, and 
wolves, had well cleared the premises. I then would invite 
them to a seat in Samuel Stock’s, Samuel Bourne’s, and Janies 
O’Donnell’s parlours. Then let them patiently watch from 
ten to twelve, from twelve to two, and perchance from two 
till four, and witness the intensity of action in making out 
lines, and diagrams, and figures, to show in plain black and 
white to government that Pat Flannagan, Samuel Murphy, 
Biddy Aigin, and Molly Sullivan, had each his and her pound 
of meal made into stirabout, on the 3rd of November, Anno 
Domini, 1847. And let it be understood that these Pat 
Flannagans, Aigins, and Murphys had only to spend the day 
in the terrific contests before described, to earn this pound 
of meal, and then betake themselves to mountains and dens, 
turf hovels, and mud hovels, to crawl in, and then and there 
< sup up’ this life-giving, life-inspiring stimulus. They should 
further be told that these Stocks, Bournes, O’Donnels, &c. had 
the privilege of handing over these nightly made out docu¬ 
ments to officers, paid from six to ten, from ten to twenty 


308 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


shillings per day, that they might have the promise of a six 
months’ nightly campaign, should papers be found to be true 
and legible, as aforetime. 

“ This is but a short preface to the story ; my heart sickens 
at looking over the utter wasting of all that was once cheer¬ 
ful, interesting, and kind in these peasantry. Hunger and 
idleness have left them a prey to every immorality ; and if 
they do not soon practice every vice attendant on such a state 
of things, it will be because they have not the power. Many 
are now maniacs, some desperate, and some idiots. Human 
nature is coming forth in every deformity that she can put 
on, while in the flesh ; and should I stay in Ireland six months 
longer, I shall not be astonished at seeing any deeds of wick¬ 
edness performed, even by those who one year ago might 
apparently have been as free from guilt as any among us. 

I have not been able yet, with all my republican training, to 
lose the old school principle of man’s total lost state. I have 
never yet seen him without the restraints of custom or reli¬ 
gion anything but a demon in embryo, if not in full maturity ; 
doing not only what he can, but sighing and longing to do 
more. The flood-gates in Ireland are certainly set open, and 
the torrent has already made fearful ravages. 

“ From Clare and Tipperary what do we hear ? One post 
after another runs to tell that not only deeds of darkness are 
done, but deeds of daylight desperation, sufficient to startle the 
firmest. What Moses shall stand up to plead with God ? What 
Phineas shall rush in to stay the plague ? AVhere are your 
men of moral, yes, of spiritual might ? You have them ; then 
bring them out! I look across that narrow channel. I see the 
graves of martyrs. I see the graves of men whose daring- 
minds stood forth in all the majesty of greatness, to speak for 
truth and justice ; and though they may long since have 
taken flight, where are their mantles ? Where is your George 
Thompson ? He who shook the United States from Maine to 
Georgia, in pleading long and loud for the down-trodden 
black man? Can lie not y tcill lie not lift his voice for poor 
Ireland ? She who stands shivering, sinking on the Isthmus, 
between two worlds, apparently not fit for either. Will he 
not reach forth a kindly hand, and try to snatch this once 
interesting and lovely, though now forlorn and forsaken 
creature, from her fearful position ? Must she , shall she die ?■ 
Will proud England lose so bright a gem as Ireland might 
have been in her crown. Will she lose her; when the 
distaff, and the spade, the plough and the fishing net, might 
again make her mountains and her valleys rejoice ?—When 
the song of the husbandman and the laugh of the milkmaid, 
might make her green isle the home of thousands, who are 
now sinking and dying in wasting despair. 

“ Ho you say she is intriguing—she is indolent and treach- 


OF IRELAND. 


309 


erous ? Try her once more ; put instruments of working 1 
warfare into her hands ; hold up the soul-stirring stimulus of 
remuneration to her ; give her no time for meditating plunder 
and bloodshed ; give her no inducement to be reckless of a 
life that exists only to suffer. Feed her not in idleness, nor 
taunt her with her nakedness and poverty, till her wasted 
palsied limbs have been washed and clothed—till her empty 
stomach has been filled, and filled too with food of her own 
earning, when she shall have strength to do it. Give her a 
little spot, on the loved isle she can call her own, where 
she can ‘sit under her own vine and fig-tree, and none 
to make her afraid,’ and force her not to flee to a distant 
clime to purchase that bread that would be sweeter on her 
own native soil. Do you say you cannot feed and pay four 
millions of these your subjects? Then call on your trans¬ 
atlantic sister to give you food for them. The earth is the 
Lord’s and the fulness thereof; and though she has a 
right to say she will not send Ireland food to keep them 
strong in idleness, she has no right to say she will not 
send them food to give them strength for labour. She 
has not a heart to say it; foul as her hands may be with 
slavery, yet she will feed the hungry with a cheerful hand. 
If she has not done her duty there is room for repentance, 
yes, effectual repentance. Her fields, the past season, have 
been waving with rich corn, and her storehouses are filling 
with the golden harvest. You have given her gold in pro¬ 
fusion, for the produce of her soil. The blast of the potatoe 
has been to her the blossoming and ripening of her pastures— 
her waving fields of pulse and corn. The husbandman has 
been stimulated to plough up fresh lands, so that he might 
rill his granaries abundantly with the rich harvest, because 
free trade has opened your ports, and you will demand more 
of his corn ; and why should he not send over a few sheaves, 
as a thank offering to God, for all this bounty. America will 
do it if required ; but an inquiry has come across the ocean ! 
Is it right to feed a country, to encourage idleness—will not 
the evil be much greater than the good ? Answer, you who 
are statesmen—you who are Christians ; answer, you who 
can. Look at the peasantry of Ireland three years ago and 
look at them now ! Even their enemies must acknowledge 
that they are a tractable race, to have developed so much 
intrigue and cunning under the training of the last two years. 
Shall I scold, shall I preach, shall I entreat any more ? What 
is woman’s legislatingamid the din of so many wise magicians, 
soothsayers, and astrologers, as have set up for Ireland the 
last two years. Prophets and priests have so far failed; but 
certainly there must be a true chord to strike somewhere ; for 
what is now wrong, when traced to its source, may disclose 
the hidden cause of the evil, and put the willing investigator 
into a position to work an amendment. 


310 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


“’You sir, who knows Erris, tell, if you can, liow the land¬ 
lords can support the poor by taxation, to give them food, 
when the few resident landlords are nothing, and worse than 
nothing, for they ai’e paupers in the full sense of the word. 
What can Samuel Bourne, James O'Donnell,and such like men 
do in their present position ? If they have done wrong, and 
do it no more, the torrent is so strong that they cannot with¬ 
stand it. I must, and will plead, though I plead in vain, that 
something may be done to give them work. I have just 
received a letter from the curate of Bingham’s Town, saying 
that he could set all his poor parish, both the women and 
children, to work and find a market for their knitting and 
cloth, if he could command a few pounds to purchase the ma¬ 
terials. He is young and indefatigable, kind-hearted and poor, 
and no proselyte. Mrs. Stock has done well in her industrial 
department. The Hon. William Butler has purchased cloth 
of her, for a coat to wear himself, ivhich the poor -women 
spun, and gave a good price for it. 

“ I pray you six-, if this malignant letter do not terrify you, 
write and say what must be done. 

“ A. Nicholson.” 

A week had I been watching a passage to the Sound, 
and November 9th, 1847, at six o’clock on Monday 
morning, I stepped into a filthy looking boat, with filthy 
looking men jabbering Irish, and sat down on a pile of 
wet straAv, for the rain and sea were still pouring and 
splashing upon us ; and there soaked and drenched, 
amid rain, wave and tempest I sat till nearly sunset, 
when the storm ceased, the clouds made an opening 
for the sun, the air became sultry, and the sea like a 
molten looking-glass. “ IIow long have you sailed this 
boat around this fearful coast 1 ?” the captain was asked. 
“ Twelve years, and not an accident has once happened 
to me.” The boatmen were obliged to row us in with 
oars, for not a motion was upon the sea, nor a breeze in 
the air. Strange and sudden change ! 

The poor fishermen at the Sound had loosened their 
boats from the fastenings, and gone out with their nets 
upon the calm waters. 

My wet clothes were not adjusted, when in awful ma¬ 
jesty the Almighty seemed riding upon the whirlwind 
and storm; the rushing of the tempest lashed the 
affrighted sea to a fury, the waves in fearful roar dashed 
over the lofty pier, the blackened clouds were tossing 


OF IRELAND. 


311 


and rolling like a scroll together, and the earth seemed 
moved as if at the coming of Christ. I actually sat down 
in a window that overlooked the Sound, and waited in 
glad suspense the approach of that cloud which should 
bear the chariot wheels of the Saviour to judgment ; 
slates were hurled from the roof—windows were broken 
—doors burst open, and the confused crash so astonished 
all that none attempted to speak. So black were the 
clouds, that night scarcely was perceived, and had the 
“graves opened/’ and the “sea given up her dead,” the 
living would not have known it, for the breath of the 
Almighty had not kindled the grand conflagration ; till 
past midnight the wind and the sea kept'up the sublime 
roaring. 

But where were the poor fishermen and the captain who 
had never met an accident? He was wrecked. The morn¬ 
ing dawned, the sun looked out upon a molten sea again, 
whose placid face seemed to say, “ I am satisfied.” But 
the stillness of the sea was soon broken by the wail of 
widows and orphans who were lamenting in loud cries 
the loss of those they loved. Nineteen of these fisher¬ 
men, the “ stoutest and best,” said Mr. Savage, are 
swallowed in the deep. Honest and industrious, they 
had stood waiting in fearful suspense, in hunger, and 
looking in despair upon the tumultuous waves that 
morning, saying, “ If the good God don’t still the storm, 
we’re all destrawed.” He had stilled it, and nineteen 
■were lost. Three among the hapless crew struggled with 
the fearful tempest, and reached the shore, crawled up 
the cliffs, and were found upon the mountains dead, on 
the way to their cabins. 

On the 28th of November, a fisherman’s widow called 
in, who had been twenty miles, to “ prove,” as she said, 
her husband, who had been washed ashore, and buried 
without a coffin ; she bought a white coffin and took it 
to the spot with her own hands, she dug him from his 
grave, and “ proved” him by a leather button she had 
sewed upon some part of his clothes. 

December 'drd .—Another night of darkness and ter¬ 
rible storm. The lightning threw a blue lustre upon 


312 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


every tiling,—the affrighted daughters turned pale,— 
the mother sat in a dark corner, now and then giving a 
stifled groan,—shrinking before the voice of Jehovah 
when he thundered in the heavens. The next morning 
while the tempest still was high, a sorrowing old mother 
and young wife had come, bearing on a cart the body of 
the son who was drowned on the 9th. The white coffin 
besmeared with tar stood upon the pier : the mother, 
wife, and sisters were beside it, mingling their loud 
lamentations with the storm. “ He was as fine a young 
lad as ever put the oar across the curragh, and had the 
lamin’ intirely,” said the old mother. 

The scenes on this coast that dreadful winter, are 
scenes of awful remembrance, and one bright spot alone 
cheered the sadness. It had been the practice for the 
mother and daughters to assemble in a retired room 
in the evening for reading the scriptures and prayer. 
One evening a daughter of the family came from the 
kitchen with the strange glad message, that one of the 
labouring men had requested that the lady should, (“ if 
it wouldn't be too much,”) come down to the kitchen 
and read to them there. Joyfully we all went, and found 
there a company of more than twenty, all quietly seated 
on forms; the kitchen in the best order, and a bright 
fire upon the hearth. They all rose as we entered, and 
one said, “We wouldn’t be bold, lady, but may be ye 
wouldn’t refuse to raid a little to us.” Testaments were 
procured—candles lighted—and these simple-hearted 
rustics in their turn read with us, making comments as 
we passed, till the scene from the interesting became 
affecting. We prayed together, and when we rose from 
our knees, one said, “We never haird so much of the 
good Christ before.” They all thanked me, and gave me 
hearty blessings, and said good night, calling after me, 
and “ may the good God give ye the long life, and happy 
death.” Every night, when it was possible to do so, the 
kitchen was put in order, and a messenger sent to ask if 
the lady was ready. I saw one of these men twenty miles 
from there, standing by his cart, when he spake (for I did 
not know him,) “ God save ye, lady, w r e’re lonesome without 


OF IRELAND. 


313 


ye entirely, we don’t have the raidin’, and maybe ye’ll 
come again.” 

I passed the Christmas and New Year’s-dayin Achill, 
in the colony of Mr. Nangle, and to the honour of the 
inhabitants would say, they did not send me to Molly 
Vesey’s to lodge; but more than one family offered to 
entertain me. Mr. Nangle I heard preach again, and 
as he figured considerably in the first volume of my work, 
it may be said here that he refused any reconciliation, 
did not speak though a good opportunity presented ; 
and when he was expostulated with by a superintendent 
of his schools, who informed him that I had visited 
numbers of them, and put clothes upon some of the 
most destitute, he coolly replied, “ If she can do any 
good I am glad of it.” 

He had eleven schools scattered through that region, 
reading the scriptures, and learning Irish; but all 
through these parts might be seen the fallacy of dis¬ 
tributing a little over a great surface. The scanty 
allowance given to children once a day, and much of 
this bad food, kept them in lingering want, and many 
died at last. So with workmen. Mr. Nangle had many 
men working in his bogs, near Mr. Savage, and so 
scantily were they paid—sometimes but three-pence and 
three-pence-halfpenny a day—that some at least would 
have died, but for the charity of Mrs. Savage. These 
men had families to feed, and must work till Saturday, 
then go nine miles into the colony to procure the Indian' 
meal for the five days’ work. This he truly called giving 
his men “ employ.” 

Another sad evil prevalent in nearly all the relief- 
shops was , damaged Indian meal. And here without 
any personality, leaving the application where it be¬ 
longs, having a knowledge of the nature of this article, 
it is placed on record, that the unground corn that was 
sent from America, and bought by the Government of 
England, and carried round the coast and then ground 
in the mills, which did not take off the hull, much 
of it having been damaged on the water, became wholly 
unfit for use, and was jl most dangerous article for 

p 


314 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


any stomach. Many of the shops I found where this 
material was foaming and sputtering in kettles over 
the fire, as if a handful of soda had been flung in, 
and sending forth an odour really unpleasant; and 
when any expostulation was made, the answer was 
“They’re quite glad to get it,” or, “We use such as is 
pat into our hands—the government must see to that .” 
Such meal, a good American farmer would not give to 
his swine unless for physic, and when the half-starved 
poor, who had been kept all their life on potatoes, took 
this sour, mouldy , harsh food, dysentery must be the 
result. One of the Dublin Relief Committee stated, that 
the government had kindly offered to save them the 
trouble of carriage by taking the American donations, 
as they arrived, and giving them an equivalent of that 
which was already on the coast, which they had pur¬ 
chased : this equivalent was the corn above-mentioned, 
and the American donations were in the best possible 
order, and the very article to which the poor were 
entitled. 

Let the policemen speak if they will speak, and testify, 
if many an injured ton of meal have not been flung 
into the sea in the night, from ports in Ireland, which 
was sent for the poor, and by neglect spoiled, while the 
objects for whom it was intended died without relief. 
The novel prudence too, which prevailed nearly every¬ 
where, was keeping the provisions for next week while the 
people were dying this, lest they should come short of 
funds to buy more, or that no more would be given them. 

The author of the Irish Crisis, January, 1848, gives 
a clear statement of many things relating to Grants, 
Public Works, and many other valuable statistics, and 
upon the whole it presents a fair picture for future gene¬ 
rations to read of the nice management and kindly feel¬ 
ings of all parties ; and “that among upwards of 2000 
local officers to whom advances were made under this 
act, here is not one to which, so far as Government is 
informed, any suspicion of embezzlement attaches.” It 
further states that the fasts set apart in London were 
kept with great solemnity, and that never in that city 


OF IRELAND. 


315 


was there a winter of so little gaiety. But he has 
not told posterity, and probably he did not know, that 
the winters of 184/ and 1848 in Dublin were winters 
of much hilarity among the gentry. The latter season 
particularly, seemed to be a kind of jubilee for “songs 
and dances.” The Queen appointed fasts on both 
these winters, the people went to church, and said 
they had “ all gone astray like lost sheep, and there 
was no soundness in them,” and some who heard be¬ 
lieved that this was all true \ but it may be scrupled 
whether many priests “wept between the porch and the 
altar, ’ or that many Jeremiahs eyes ran down with 
water, for the slain of the daughters of the people.” 
That the people of England felt more deeply, and acted 
more consistently than did the people of Ireland, cannot 
be disputed. Ireland felt when her peace was disturbed 
and her ease molested, and she cried loudly for help in 
this “ God’s famine,” as she impiously called it; but 
ate her good dinners and drank her good wine, as long 
as she could find means to do so—famine or no famine ; 
her landlords strained for the last penny of rent, and 
sent their tenants houseless into the storm when they 
could pay no longer. 

This, her sirs, her lords, and her esquires did. “No 
suspicion of embezzlement attached !” when a company 
of more than 2000 were entrusted with money at dis¬ 
cretion, they must indeed have been a rare lump of 
honesty if some few glasses of wine had not been taken 
out of it, to drink the Queen’s health on their days of 
festivals, or a pound now and then to pay off some 
vexatious debt, &c. And who shall tell Government of 
that l shall the United Fraternity themselves do it 1 ?—shall 
the poor, who are powerless and unheeded, tell it; or 
shall “ Common Fame,” that random talking tell-tale, fly 

through the kingdom, and declare that Mr.-, “ head 

and ears in debt,” suddenly came out “ clear as a horn” 
that Mr. Somebody was fitting up his house, and where 
did he get his money ? and that the cattle and horses 
of Farmer G-were getting fat and thriving astonish¬ 

ingly, &c. 




316 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


It was my fortune to be placed in a position among 
all classes, acting isolated as I did, to see the inner 
court of some of these temples—(not of the Committees), 
with these my business ended when at Dublin. _ But 
I had boxes of clothing, and am obliged to acknow¬ 
ledge what common report says here, that the people 
of the higher classes in general shewed a meanness bor¬ 
dering on dishonesty. When they saw a goodly gar¬ 
ment they not only appeared to covet, but they actually 
bantered, as though in a shop of second-hand articles, 
to get it as cheap as possible; and most, if not all of 
such, would have taken these articles without any 
equivalent, though they knew they were the property of 
the poor. Instead of saying “ These garments are not 
fit for the cabin people, I will pay the full worth and let 
them have something that will do them good,” they 
managed most adroitly to secure them for the smallest 
amount. These were people too who were not in want. 
The poor were shamefully defrauded, where they had no 
redress and none to lift the voice in their favour. Among 
the suffering it was not so; whenever I visited a neigh¬ 
bourhood or school, and clothed a naked child, or as¬ 
sisted a destitute family, those who were not relieved, 
never, in my presence or hearing, manifested the least 
jealousy, but on the contrary, blessed God that He had 
sent relief to any one. This so affected me, in schools 
where I went, that a garment for a naked child was not 
presented in the school-room ; I could not well endure 
the ghastly smile of approbation that some child sitting 
near would give, who was nearly as destitute as the one 
that had been clothed. In one of Mr. Nangle’s schools 
the teacher was requested to select the children most in 
want, and let me know, that I need not go into the 
room with new garments for a part, to the exclusion of 
others. These little suffering ones had not yet learnt 
to covet or envy—always oppressed, they bowed their 
necks patiently to the yoke. 


OF IRELAND. 


117 


CHAPTER XIX. 


“ There is no god, the oppressors say, 

To mete us out chastisement.” 

POOR-HOUSES, TURNIPS, AND ELACK BREAD. 

These splendid monuments of Ireland's poverty number 
no less than 130, and some contain a thousand, and some 
two thousand, and in cases of emergency they can heap 
a few hundreds more. Before the famine they were 
many of them quite interesting objects for a stranger 
to visit, generally kept clean, not crowded, and the food 
sufficient. But when famine advanced, when funds de¬ 
creased, when the doors were besieged by imploring 
applicants, who wanted a place to die, that they might 
be buried in a coffin, they were little else than charnel 
houses, while the living shivering skeletons that squatted 
upon the floors, or stood with arms folded against the 
wall, half-clad, with hair uncombed, hands and face un¬ 
washed, added a horror if not terror to the sight. 
Westport Union had long been celebrated for its manage¬ 
ment, its want of comfort, in fire, food, lodging, and 
room ; but stay and die , or go out and die, was the choice. 
Making suitable allowances for a rainy day—the house 
undergoing some changes when I visited it—-there then 
appeared little capital left for comfort, had the day been 
sunny , and the house without any unusual upturnings. 
The “ yaller Indian,” here, was the dreadful thing that 
they told me, “swells us and takes the life of usand 
as it was there cooked, it may be scrupled whether any 
officer in the establishment would select it for his food, 
though he assured the inmates “ he could eat it, and it 
was quite good enough for a king.” These officers and 
guardians, many of them, were men who had lived in 
ease, never accustomed to industry or self-denial, having 
the poor as vassals under them; and when the potatoe 
blight took away all means of getting rent, what with 


318 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


the increased taxations and the drainings by a troop ot 
beggars at the door, they found themselves approaching 
a difficult crisis, and to prop up every tottering wall 
new expedients must be tried. Many of them sought 
posts of office under government, and were placed in 
the work-houses to superintend funds and food ; and it 
will not be slander to say, that the ears of government 
have not been so fortunate with regard to the “ slip-shod” 
honesty of some of these gentry, as in the 2000 which 
the writer of the Crisis mentions. 

When the poor complained, they were told that funds 
were low, and stinted allowances must be dealt out. 
I^or did the mischief end here; in proportion as the 
houses were crowded within , so were the purses drained 
without; and beside, in proportion to the purloining of 
funds, so was the stinting of food and the extra drains 
upon the struggling tradesman and farmer. An observer, 
who had no interest in the nation but philanthropy, going 
over Ireland, after travelling many a weary mile over 
bog and waste, where nothing but a scattering hamlet of 
loose stone, mud, or turf greets him, when he suddenly 
turns some corner, or ascends some hill, and sees in the 
distance, upon a pleasant elevation, a building of vast 
dimensions, tasteful in architecture, surrounded with walls, 
like the castle or mansion of some lord, if he knew not 
Ireland’s history, must suppose that some chief held his 
proud dominion over the surrounding country, and that 
his power must be so absolute that life and death hung 
on his lip; and should he enter the gate, and find about 
its walls a company of ragged and tattered beings of all 
ages, from the man of grey hairs to the lad in his teens, 
sitting upon the ground, breaking stones with “ might 
and main,” and piling them in heaps—should he pro¬ 
ceed to a contiguous yard, if the day be not rainy, and 
find some hundreds of the “weaker vessel,” standing in 
groups or squatting upon their heels, with naked arms 
and feet—should he go over the long halls, and in some 
enclosure find a group of pale sickly-looking children 
cowering about a vast iron guard, to keep the scanty fire 


OF IRELAND. 


319 


that might he struggling for life in the grate from doing 
harm—should he stop at the dinner hour, and see these 
hundreds, yes, thousands, marching in file to the tables, 
where was spread the yellow “ stirabout,” in tins and 
pans, measured and meted by ounces and pounds, suited 
to age and condition—and should he tarry till twilight 
drew her curtain, and see, in due order, these men, 
women, and children led to their stalls for the night, 
where are pallets of straw, in long rooms (they are 
sorted and ranged according to sex) to lie down together, 
with neither light of the sun, moon, or candle, till the 
morning dawn, and call them again to their gruel or 
stirabout, to resume afresh the routine of the preceding 
day—would not this uninformed stranger find all his 
opinions confirmed, that this must be the property of 
a monarch, who has gathered these heterogeneous non¬ 
descripts from the pirates, highway robbers, and pick¬ 
pockets of his subjects, and had enclosed them here, 
awaiting the “fit out,” for transportation ! 

But listen ! This honest inquirer is aroused by being 
kindly informed that this great mammoth establishment, 
with all its complicated paraphernalia of boilers, soup- 
pots, tins, pans, stools, forms, tables, and pallets, together 
with heavy-paid overseers, officers, matrons, and cooks, 
are all the work of Christian benevolence ! and that the 
building itself cost more than would a comfortable cottage 
and plot of ground sufficient to give each of the families 
here enclosed a good support. And further, so un¬ 
bounded is the owner’s benevolence, that over the Green 
Isle are scattered one hundred and twenty-nine more like 
palaces ! rearing their proud turrets to the skies, fur¬ 
nished within with like apparatus, for tens of thousands, 
so that every Paddy, from Donegal to Kerry, and from 
Wicklow to Mayo, may here find a stool, a tin of stir¬ 
about, and pallet, on the simple condition of oatliing 
that he owns not either “ hide or hoof,” screed or scrawl, 
mattock or spade, pot or churn, duck-pond, manure-heap, 
or potato-plot, on the ground that reared him, and simply 
put his seal to this by pulling the roof from his own 
cabin. Should the inquirer be at a less to conjecture 


320 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


how, when, and where this wide-spread philanthropy had 
a beginning, he is cited back to the good old days ol 
Elizabeth and James, when the zealous Christian plun¬ 
derer, Cromwell, prepared the way to parcel out the island, 
and entail it for ever to a happy few, who found a race 
of people who would dig their ditches, build their walls, 
lay out their parks and ponds, for a penny or two a-day, 
and above all, could be made patiently to feed on a single 
root, and live in mud cabins, or by the side of a rock, or 
burrow in sandbanks, who would “ go at their command, 
and come at their bidding and beside, for the unleased 
patch of ground, where they grew the root on which 
they subsisted, they paid such a rent as enabled the 
masters of the soil to live and fare sumptuously at home, 
to hunt the hare and deer over mountain and glen, with 
lady, dog and gun, or to travel in distant lands. With 
all these appliances, they had lived on, sending care to the 
winds, till, from generation to generation, they found 
these “ hewers of wood and drawers of water” had become 
so multifarious that, like Pharaoh’s frogs, they encom¬ 
passed the whole land, covering bog and ditch, crying, 
“give, give,” till dinned and harassed with the undying 
clamour, they were moved to provide food and shelter in 
palaces of stone and mortar, where all care of food, rai¬ 
ment, and lodging is at an end, and they have only to 
eat when they are fed, lie down when bidden, rise and 
put on their clothes when the morning gives them light, 
and once a-week say their prayers in the church or 
chapel, as their conscience dictated, without leaving the 
proud roof where they are fed and housed ! 

These palaces certainly in this respect stand pre¬ 
eminent over every other portion of the earth, and tell 
the true story of Ireland’s strange management more 
than volumes of essays would do. To pauperize men, 
women, and children, in sight of, and walking over a rich 
uncultivated soil, as is Ireland, and shut them up, with 
no other crimes than that of compidsory poverty, where 
they are fed, clothed, and lodged at the governor’s option, 
enclosed with bolts and bars, like felons, with no more 
freedom than state prisoners have, is certainly a strange 


OF IRELAND. 


321 


comment on liberty, a strange comment on the family rela¬ 
tionship, which prohibits ail intercourse between parents 
and children, except a few hasty moments one day in 
seven. The workhouses in Ireland are many of them 
well managed on the principles as they are established ; 
but, as an overseer in one of the best conducted ones 
said, “ I have been here many years, and have seen the 
workings and effects of a poor-house, and can only say— 
the best that can be said of them —they are prisons under • 
a different name, calculated to produce a principle of 
idleness, and to degrade, never to elevate, to deaden in 
the human heart that rational self-respect which indivi¬ 
dual support generates, and which should be kept up ; 
and may I never be doomed to die in a poor-house” 

Nor is this all. The unreclaimed bogs and waste 
hunting grounds tell , that in no country are poor-houses 
such an anomaly as in Ireland ; and the Irishman who 
is willing to work, and is employed there, has no moral 
right to be either grateful or satisfied that he has ex¬ 
changed even a mud cabin of liberty to a palace walled 
and locked, where his food is measured and doled, where 
his family are strangers to him, and all the social inter¬ 
changes of life are taken from him wholly. Though a 
man may be “ a man for a’ that,” yet he cannot feel him¬ 
self one ; nor does he seldom, if ever, regain that standard 
of manly independence which belongs to man, whatever 
his future lot may be. 


TURNIPS. 

As turnips made a prominent feature in the absence 
of their predecessors, the potatoes, during the famine, 
they should not be overlooked in the annals of that his¬ 
tory. They were to the starving ones supposed to be a 
“ God-send,” and were eaten with great avidity, both 
cooked and raw. Many of the cabiners could get but 
little fire, and they cooked only the tops, while the bot¬ 
toms were taken raw ; those who had no shelter to cook 
under could not well eat the tops, though they often 
tried to do so. It has been ascertained, that turnips 
contain but from ten to fifteen parts of nutriment to a 

p 3 


322 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


hundred parts, thence the quantity necessary to nourish 
the body must require bulk to a great amount. This 
root, when boiled, has ever been considered as safe a 
vegetable for the invalid as any in the vocabulary of 
esculents; and even the fevered invalid, when prohibited 
all other vegetables, has been allowed to partake of this 
not because of its nutrition, but because of the absence of 
it, not having sufficient to injure the weakest body. 
When it was found that turnips could be so easily 
grown, and that no blast had as yet injured them, they 
were hailed with great joy by the peasants and by the 
people. But the starving ones soon found they were 
unsatisfactory, for when they had eaten much more in 
hulk than of the potatoe they were still craving, and the 
result was, where for weeks they lived wholly on them, 
their stomachs were so swollen, especially children’s, that 
it was a pitiable sight to see them. No one thought it 
was the turnip : but I found in every place on the 
coast where they were fed on them the same results, 
and as far as I could ascertain, such died in a few weeks, 
and the rational conclusion must be, that a single root, 
so innutritious and so watery as the white turnips are, 
cannot sustain a healthy state of the system, nor life 
itself for any considerable time. When going through 
the Barony of Erris, the appearance of these turnip- 
eaters became quite a dread. Invariably the same results 
appeared wherever used, and they became more to be 
dreaded, as it was feared the farmer would make them 
a substitute for the potatoe, and the ingenious landlord 
would find a happy expedient for his purse, if his tenants 
could live on the turnip as well as the potatoe. Like 
cattle these poor creatures seemed to be driven from 
one herb and root to another, using nettles, turnip-tops, 
chickweed, in their turn, and dying at last on these 
miserable substitutes. Many a child sitting in a muddy 
cabin has been interrogated, what she or he had to eat, 
“nothing but the turnip ma’am/’ sometimes the “tur¬ 
nip-top and being asked when this was procured, 
sometimes the answer would be “ yesterday, lady,” or, 
“ when we can get it, ma’am.” 


OF IRELAND. 


opo 

626 


BLACK BREAD. 

We turn from the turnip and see what virtue there is 
in black bread; and my only regret is, that my powers 
of description are so faint, that I cannot describe one- 
half of what might be told of that novel article used 
lor many a month in the county of Mayo. The relief 
officers there were under government pay, and as they 
asserted, under government orders ; but it is much to be 
doubted whether the government, had they been served 
with a loaf of that bread, would have ordered it for either 
man or beast. The first that greeted my wondering eyes 
was in a poor village between Achill and Newport, where, 
while stopping to feed the horse, a company of children 
who had been to school, and received a few ounces of this 
daily, came in and had the boon in their hands. The 
woman of the house reached a piece to me, asking if I 
ever saw the like. Indeed, I never had and never tasted 
the like. Supposing it must have been accidental, that 
no other of the kind had ever been made, I said, “ This is 
not bread that the children usually eat.” She answered, 
“ they have had it for some weeks.” It was sour, black, 
and of the consistency of liver; but thinking that the 
baker had been mostly in fault, this bread did not leave 
such an impression on my eyes or mind as what was 
seen for weeks afterwards. 

A few days from this, a gentleman where I stopped 
brought into the room one of these genuine loaves of the 
true coin of “ black bread.” “Here,” said he, “is the 
reward of a day’s labour of a poor man, who has been 
sitting on the ground this cold day to break stones.” 
Not one present could, have told what it was till taking 
it in the hand, and then indeed it was quite doubtful 
whether men would provide such a material to reward a 
labouring man for a day’s work ; but it was indeed so. 
The man who had come into possession of this boon was 
one among many, some who had walked three, four and 
even five miles, and had laboured through a cold day in 
March without eating, and this bread weighed a pound. 
But the material and colour ! The material could not 


324 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


but by a chemist have been analysed, but the colour was 
precisely that of dry turf, so much so that when a piece 
was placed upon a table by the side of a bit of turf, no 
eye could detect the difference, and it was very difficult 
to do so when taking it in hand. The next day, calling- 
on a gentleman of respectability and a friend to his 
country, he inquired if in my excursions I had met with 
the “ bread ” that the relief officers were giving the poor, 
adding, “ I will procure you a piece.” He then sent to 
the shop where it was kept and bought a loaf—it was 
common unbolted flour-bread, of a middling quality. 
He sent it back; they denied having or selling any other 
kind to the poor, or ever having done so. “Go,” said 
the gentleman, “ into the school where the bread is 
distributed, and then the facts will be palpable.” I 
went. A school of 140 or 150 girls were in waiting for 
this bread, which had been sent for to the shop. It 
came, was cut in slices, and having been baked that 
morning, the effluvia was fresh, and though standing at 
the extremity of a long room, with the street door open, 
the nausea became so offensive that after taking a slice 
for a pattern, and having ascertained from the teacher that 
this was the daily bread which she had been cutting for 
weeks, I hastened home with the prize, placed the bread 
upon paper where good air could reach it ; the disagree¬ 
able smell gradually subsided, but the bread retained all 
its appearance for weeks, never becoming sour, but small 
spots of a greenish colour like mould here and there 
dotted upon it. These spots were not abundant: the 
remainder appeared precisely like turf-mould, and was 
judged to be so. 

Where these relief officers made out this article w r as not 
satisfactorily explained —“ they did as they were bidden.” 
—Report said, that some twenty-nine years before, the 
government had deposited in that region some conti¬ 
nental material for bread, which had become damaged, 
and then could not be sold. But twenty-nine years it 
had withstood the ravages of rats, mice, and vermin, and 
had now “ come out” an eatable commodity for charity. 
And here it was scattered daily through mountain and 


OF IRELAND. 


325 


glen ; and for this equivalent the poor man must give 
up his land, take off the roof of his cabin with his own 
hand—for, as the government has not required this, the 
driver, like a slave one, ever faithful to his master’s in¬ 
terest and master’s good name, tells the starving cabiner 
if he will not ascend the roof of his hut and unthatch it, 
and tumble down the stones with his own hand, that he 
shall neither have the pound of meal, or “black bread.” 
Then this driver screens himself behind the flimsy cover¬ 
ing that the cabiner did it with his own hands, and the 
landlord gravely tells you that it was done without his 
orders, and probably without his knowledge. Slave¬ 
owners do 'precisely in the same ivay . They employ a 
faithful driver, pay him bountifully, and his duty is to 
get the most work done in the least time, and in the best 
way. If a delinquent be flogged to death, the owner is 
always from home or somehow engaged—entirelyignorant 
of the matter. But mark! however often these cruelties 
may be repeated, the driver maintains his post and his 
salary. Are the public to be so duped in either case, 
that the slaveholder and landlord are not satisfied with 
this flogging and this pulling down of houses ? Why, 
then, are they ever repeated ? 

The age of black bread and pulling down houses cer¬ 
tainly has fallen peculiarly under the reign of the Queen 
and her agent John Russell; yet it might be wholly 
unjust to impute either to their orders, or even consent. 
“ The black bread” was a cheap substitute for good 
flour or meal; and if meddlesome people had staid at 
home, minding their own concerns, who would ever have 
thought of complaining about bread ? The poor starving 
ones had reached that point that they would swallow 
anything in the shape of food that could have been swal¬ 
lowed, without uttering a murmur. 

A few pieces of this bread were put in a letter, directed 
to a friend in London, that the Committee there, acting 
for the poor in Ireland, might have a sight. The letter 
was carried to the postmaster, and an explanation given 
him of the precious gift contained in it, and the object 
of so doing, &c.; that it was to let the people of England 


326 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


see if they acknowledged this article as a provision oi 
theirs for the poor. The letter never reached its desti¬ 
nation ; the postmaster was interrogated by the writer ; 
he affirmed that he had seen no such letter, nor heard 
one ivord about it; when lo! this forgetful postmaster 
was one of the said relief officers who managed the 
“ black bread !” “ Whoso readeth let him understand."’ 

Whether the poor lived or whether they died on this 
bread, or by this bread, I do not pretend to say, only 
that death was doing its work by hunger, fever, and 
dysentery continually. 


CHAPTER XX. 

“ Earth, of man the bounteous mother, 

Feeds him still with com and vine : 

He who best would aid a brother, 

Shares with him these gifts divine.” 

Newport and its vicinity presented a variety of excit¬ 
ing scenes: here in this pretty town, families of tolerable 
comfort declined step by step, till many who would have 
outlived the common changes of life could not maintain 
their standing in this hour of trial. A former rector, by 
the name of Wilson, died in the summer of 1847, leaving 
a widow and four children on a pretty spot, where they 
had resided for years, and gathered the comforts of life 
about them. Here I was invited to spend a few weeks, and 
would with gratitude record the many favours shewn me 
there ; and with deep sorrow would add, that I saw step 
by step all taken for taxes and rent; every thing that 
had life out of doors, that could be sold at auction, was 
sold; then every thing of furniture, till beds and tables 
left the little cottage, and the mother was put in jail, 
and is now looking through its grates, while her children 
are struggling for bread. Sir Richard O’Donnell is the 
landlord in possession of most of the land there, and his 
“ driver,” like others akin to him, does strange things to 




OF IRELAND. 


327 


the tenants, quite unknown to the landlord, who has 
been called humane. 

But this fearless “ driver” throws, or causes to be 
thrown down, cabin after cabin, and sometimes whole 
villages, of which it is said the landlord was entirely 
ignorant, but the pitiless storm heeded not that, and the 
poor starved exiles pleading that the cabin might be left 
a little longer, have no pity, their pot and even the cloak, 
which is the peasant woman’s all by night and by day, has 
often been torn from her emaciated limbs, and sold at auc¬ 
tion. Perhaps in no instance does the oppression of the 
poor, and the sighing of the needy come before the mind 
so vividly, as when going over the places made desolate 
by the famine, to see the tumbled cabins, with the poor 
hapless inmates, who had for years sat around tlieir turf 
fire, and ate their potatoe together, now lingering and 
oftimes wailing in despair, their ragged barefooted little 
ones clinging about them, one on the back of the weep¬ 
ing mother, and the father looking in silent despair, 
while a part of them are scraping among the rubbish to 
gather some little relic of mutual attachment—(for the 
poor, reader, have their tender remembrances)—then, in 
a flock, take their solitary, their pathless way to seek 
some rock or ditch, to encamp supperless for the night, 
without either a covering for the head or the feet, with 
not the remnant of a blanket to spread over them in the 
ditch, where they must crawl. Are these solitary cases ? 
Happy would it be were it so ; but village upon village, 
and company after company have I seen; and one magis¬ 
trate who was travelling informed me that at nightfall 
the preceding day, he found a company who had gathered 
a few sticks and fastened them into the ditch, and spread 
over what miserable rags they could collect, (for the rain 
was fast pouring;) and under these more than two hun¬ 
dred men, women, and children, were to crawl for the 
night. He alighted from his car, and counted more 
than two hundred; they had all that day been driven 
out, and not one pound of any kind of food was in the 
whole encampment! 

When I went over desolate Erris, and saw the demo- 


328 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


lished cabins belonging to J. Walshe, I begged to know 
if all bad died from that hamlet—“ Worse than died,” 
was the answer ; for if they are alive, they are in sand 
banks on the bleak sea-shore, or crowded into some 
miserable cabin for a night or two, waiting for death ; 
they are lingering out the last hours of suffering. Oh ! 
ye poor, ye miserable oppressors! what will ye do, when 
the day of God’s wrath shall come '] Have ye ever 
thought what “ rock and mountain” ye can call upon 
to screen your naked heads, who would not here give the 
poor and hungry a shelter 1 When “ the elements shall 
melt with fervent heatthen shall the blaze of these 
ruins scorch and scathe you ; yea, burn you up, if you 
do not now make haste to repent. Ye lords, when the 
Lord of lords, and God of gods, shall gird on his sword ; 
then shall these poor be a swift witness against you. 
The widow and the fatherless ye have delighted to 
oppress, because they could not resist you, and yet you 
dare to call yourselves by the name of Him, whose mis¬ 
sion was mercy, and who marks diligently the ways of 
him who delights in unjust gain, and is deaf to the cries 
of the widow and fatherless. Often, when looking at 
these wandering exiles, woful as is their case, yet my 
Heart has said how much more woful is the case of him 
who drove you into the storm. Well might James say, 
“ Go to, ye rich men, weep and howl f and well did 
Christ pray—“ Father forgive them, for they know not 
what they do.” 

Contrasted with these were a few' of better stamp, 
w r hose hearts had not become entirely seared by the love 
of gain. Mr. Pounding and his wife, who died by their 
excessive labours among the poor ; he was rector in 
Westport, and his money and time were faithfully em¬ 
ployed in saving, and not destroying the poor. His 
name is now in sweet remembrance by those whom he 
succoured in their time of need. It was pleasant too, to 
see the labourers, whom Sir Richard employed in the 
cultivation of flax in the summer and autumn of 1847. 
Among the thousands which were happily at work, were 
many w'omen, and their cheerful responses testified how' 


OF IRELAND. 


320 


they prized the boon to be allowed to labour, when they 
could earn but a few pence a-day. This work ended, and 
with it many of the poor were left hopeless, and pro¬ 
bably before another spring opened they were sent out 
into the storm, by the “driver’ of this same Sir, who saw 
them work so willingly. 

Mr.Gildeatoo,had a fine establishment for spinning and 
weaving. Here are employed about 700, mostly women, 
spinning and hand-skutching, and their earnings were 3s. 
and 3s. Gd. per week. The yarn was spun by hand, and the 
weaving by a spring shuttle. The table-linen and sheet¬ 
ing would compete with any manufactory in any country. 
Yet this valuable establishment was doing its last work 
for -want of encouragement—want of funds ; and ma¬ 
chinery is doing the work faster and selling cheaper, 
though the material is not so durable. What can the 
poor labourer do ; willing to work at any price, and 
begging to do so, yet cannot be allowed the privilege. 
Mr. Gildea kept a number employed, and employed to a 
good purpose, many of whom may at last starve for food. 

The state of the famine here might be illustrated by a 
few facts which came under my observation. 

The chapel bell tolled one morning early, when a 
respectable young woman was brought into the yard for 
interment. No bells tolled for the starving, they must 
have the “ burial of an ass,” or none at all. A young 
lad improved this opportunity while the gate was open, 
and carried in, a large sack on his back, which contained 
two brothers, one seventeen, the other a little boy, who 
had died by starvation. In one corner he dug, with his 
own emaciated feeble hands, a grave, and put them in, 
uncoffined, and covered them, while the clods were fall¬ 
ing upon the coffin of the respectable young woman. I 
never witnessed a more stirring striking contrast between 
civilized and savage life—Christianity and heathenism 
—wealth and poverty, than in this instance; it said so 
much for the mockery of death, with all its trappings and 
ceremonies—the mockery of pompous funerals, and their 
black retinue. This poor boy unheeded had staid in 
the dark cabin with those dead brothers, not even getting 


330 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


admittance into the gate, till some respectable one should 
want a burial; then he might follow this procession at 
a suitable distance, with two dead brothers upon his 
back, and put them in with his own hands, with none 
to compassionate him ! 

A cabin was seen closed one day a little out of the town, 
when a man had the curiosity to open it, and in a dark 
corner he found a family of the father, mother, and two 
children, lying in close compact. The father was con¬ 
siderably decomposed; the mother, it appeared, had died 
last, and probably fastened the door, which was always 
the custom when all hope was extinguished, to get into 
the darkest corner and die, where passers-by could not 
see them. Such family soenes were quite common, and 
the cabin was generally pulled down upon them for a 
grave. The man called, begging me to look in. I did 
not, and coidd not endure, as the famine progressed, such 
sights, as well as at the first, they were too real, and these 
realities became a dread. In all my former walks over the 
island, by day or night, no shrinking or fear of danger 
ever retarded in the least my progress; but now, the 
horror of meeting living walking ghosts, or stumbling 
upon the dead in my path at night, inclined me to keep 
within when necessity did not call. The entire face of 
the country was changed, for though poverty always was 
brooding her dismal wings over that island, yet now she 
had sharpened her teeth, and in many parts desperation 
was driving the people to deeds which had long slept, or 
which never before had been transacted. A class o'f 
persons, driven to madness by idleness and hunger, were 
prowling at night through some parts of the county, 
calling themselves “ Molly Maguires.” These go from 
house to house, in disguise, demanding money, and if 
denied, they card the refuser till the skin becomes lace¬ 
rated ; this scratching is performed sometimes with a 
card and sometimes with the whin-bush, which is full of 
small thorns, but these thorns, when applied to the 
skin, take leave of the bush, and remain there, so that 
the sufferer must often continue days before he can rid 
himself of these troublesome comrades. Many of these 


OF IRELAND. 


331 


marauders have been apprehended, yet the practice did 
not cease, because they were encouraged by the country 
people, who had cattle in the pounds which had been 
seized for taxes, and these expert gentry, for a small 
reward, liberated and restored the animals to the original 
owners. A good supper of the best bread, butter, milk, 
and fowls, which the farmer could supply, ended the 
evening’s jollity. White-boys, Peep-o’-day boys, Lady 
Clares, and Molly Maguires, are hereditary entailments, 
having existed ever since parcelling out the land so un¬ 
justly, as a reward of plunder, was done to a few. Uncul¬ 
tivated as the mind of the Irish peasantry may be it 
is not inactive —the pool is not stagnant—life of some 
kind will sparkle up ; and truly, if ever oppression was 
justifiable in making wise men “ mad,” it is in Ireland. 
When the cup is full it will flow over ;—and the saying, 
that Ireland “ must have a rebellion every forty or fifty 
years,” has a law of nature for its foundation. The 
grand river that supplies the mighty “ Niagara,” flows 
quietly on for many a mile, till it reaches a certain point, 
when it takes a rapidity, gathering force as it proceeds, 
till it meets the fearful precipice down which it has 
roared and tumbled for ages, and down which it will 
roar and tumble till nature herself shall be dissolved. 

The so-called u Rebellion ” of 1848, which sadly 
sealed the fate of Mitchell and O’Brien, was 'precisely this 
law. They had wanted and suffered , suffered and yjaited , 
till they reached the awful chasm—the famine. They 
had seen it swallow its thousands, and they saw and 
felt that this chasm might have been closed ; they looked 
on, they agitated, till their philanthropic love of country 
and deep sense of justice rushed into a temporary mad¬ 
ness, rashness, and an insanity which hurled them head¬ 
long into their present abyss. The Tipperary men, who 
congregated on that hill, with their flocks and herds, 
gave a rational reply to the priest, Avho exhorted them to 
disperse, rational —for uncultivated barbarians, as their 
enemies call them. 

The priest pointed them to the absurdity, the rashness, 
of rising against so formidable an enemy as England and 


332 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


her soldiers stationed in the country. “ Better suffer than 
fight, and fight for nothing, too'' They added, “ It isn't 
the likes of us, yer riverence, that looks for the right, or 
the Repale, but the long winter of the famine will be on 
us, and we shall die with the hunger; the blackguard 
taxes will take all the cattle, and we took ’em here, plaise 
yer riverence, to ate, and let the soldiers shoot us, and 
that will be the quick death for us ; better than the long 
hunger, yer riverence—better than the hunger.” Now, 
that was certainly, for “ barbarians,” quite a civilized, if 
not philosophical answer, and quite in keeping with Irish 
coolness in difficulty and danger. It was something like 
a company from a district in the south of Ireland, in the 
time of the first winter of the famine. They had given 
up all hope of life, and consulted to go in company to 
the poor-house, and die there, that they might be buried 
in coffins. Such a haggard array of misery had never been 
seen before in one body, and the soldiers were ordered 
to be on the spot at the workhouse to keep all in safety. 
These despairing creatures paused before the red coats 
and guns, and implored them to shoot them down, and 
end their long misery at once. This was no false bravado. 
They were sincere, and not one among them, it is be¬ 
lieved, would have shrunk in face of that death. 

This rebellion, it should be told, was not that ungrate¬ 
ful affair as has been represented. It was not agitated, 
or scarcely known, among the thousands who had been 
charitably fed in the famine. It originated among the 
higher classes of well-fed politicians, who were too en¬ 
lightened not to know the causes of their country’s suf¬ 
ferings, and too humane to look on with indifference. 
They were seconded by a lower class of men, who had 
not as yet felt the whole force of the famine in their own 
stomachs, but knew it must speedily come upon them. 
“ Give us death by the bullet,” they said, “ and not the 
starvation.” All this should be taken into consideration ; 
and beside, this rebellion had nothing to do with the sec¬ 
tarian spirit of the country. Protestants were at the 
head of it, and many of the catholics chimed in, but the 
priests, as a body, stood aloof, and expostulated with 


OF IRELAND. 


333 


their people to do the same. The O’Connells were loud 
against it, in word and action ; and had the catholics as 
a body united their forces, Ireland would have been one 
vast field of blood. 

CROY LODGE AND B ALLIN A. 

Through the romantic snow-topped mountains of 
Doughhill, a son of Mrs. Wilson conducted me on her 
car to Ballycroy, or Crov Lodge, the cottage on a most 
wild coast, where Maxwell wrote his “Wild Sports of 
the West.” We wound among mountains of the most 
lofty kind, and hanging over the sea, reflecting their snowy 
sides from its molten surface, with a bright morning sun 
shining upon them, they were strangely beautiful. The 
panorama was exceedingly interesting, and the more so 
that the peasants appeared better fed than any I had 
met in the county. The relief-officers here might be 
more attentive, seeing that this destitute spot so enclosed 
could yield no possible relief. 

Stopping to feed the pony, a woman entered, whom we 
had passed an hour before, with a little girl peeping out 
from under a cloak upon her back. She told us she had 
been at Mulrone the day before, in hopes of getting a 
little meal, and was disappointed ; it was not the day that 
the relief was given out. They were penniless, and had 
not eaten since the day before, and the walk was nine 
miles. Having in my reticule a sweet biscuit, it was 
given to the pretty and clean hungry child. She took 
it, and gave me a “ God bless ye, lady,” but could not 
be prevailed to eat it ; she wrapped it in her pinafore 
most carefully, looked up to her mother, and smiled, but 
would not break it. “ How is this ?” I asked the mother; 
“ she cannot be hungry.” “She is indeed hungry, but 
she never saw such a thing before, and she cannot think 
of parting with it, hungry as she must be. Such self- 
denial in a child was quite beyond my comprehension, 
but so inured are these people to want, that their endur¬ 
ance and self-control are almost beyond belief. Giving 
her a piece of bread, she ate it with the greatest zest— 
she had seen bread before. 


334 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


We took her upon the car, and for three miles she 
rode under my cloak, with her biscuit snugly wrapped 
in her apron, holding it most carefully between her 
hands; and when we set her down at the turn of the 
road and I saw her little bare feet running away, and 
heard her last word of “ bless ye lady,” with the pre¬ 
cious treasure safely secured, I prayed the Saviour that 
He would take that little lamb of his flock, and shelter 
her in his bosom from the bleak winds of adversity, that 
are so keenly blowing and withering the cheek of many 
a fair blossom in that stricken country. Some days 
after the mother found me, and said the biscuit was still 
preserved, “to remember the nice lady.” How little 
does it take to make such poor happy! The country 
was bleak and barren, and a cordial welcome to Croy 
Lodge after dark was a pleasant salutation. Here, shut 
in from wind and cold by a bright turf fire, clean cloth, 
and good dinner, had there been none starving without, 
the evening would have been a pleasant one. Ballacroy 
had suffered much, but it was not Behnullet. That 
ghastly look and frightful stare had not eaten out all 
the appearance of life and hope which many manifested. 
A visit to the national school gave not a very favourable 
impression of the state of the children; nearly a hundred 
pale-faced and bare-footed little ones were crowded into 
a cold room, squatting upon their feet, cowering closely 
together, waiting for ten ounces of bread, which was all 
their support, but now and then a straggling turnip-top. 
The teacher, with a salary of £12. a year, could not be 
expected to he of the nicer sort, nor of the highest attain¬ 
ments in education. The improvement of the children 
would not in some time fit them for a class in college. 

From this university I went to a hunting lodge kept 
by Mr. Wilson, accompanied by the kind teacher, who 
insisted that a watch dog, kept by the gentleman for the 
purpose of guarding the premises, would “ ate me” if I 
went alone. Assuring him that the dogs in Ireland had 
always treated me with great urbanity, and that I feared 
no harm, he would not allow it; the “ blackguard,” he 
added, “ will rend yeand he kindly conducted me to 


OF IRELAND. 


335 


the door. The dog growled; speaking kindly to him, 
he led me through the hall, and when I was seated, dog- 
like, he put his amicable nose upon my lap. The master 
approvingly said,. “ That dog, madam, is very cross and 
even, dangerous to any ragged person or beggar that ap¬ 
proaches the premises; hut when one decently clothed 
enters, he welcomes them as he has done you.” So 
much for the training of dogs, and their aptness in 
acquiring the spirit of their masters. 

Never before, in Ireland, had so good an opportunity 
been presented me of becoming acquainted with the 
trade of a real sportsman, its merits and demerits , as 
now; and knowing that the occupation had been in the 
country quite a celebrated one, I hoped here to learn its 
real advantages. 

Mr. Wilson was keeping the lodge for Mr. Yernon, of 
Clontorf Castle, near Dublin, to hunt and fowl as he 
best could. “ I am dying,” he said, “ with rheumatic 
pains, brought on by wading through the bogs in pur¬ 
suit of the hare and wild fowl.” He had a noble com¬ 
pany of dogs, terriers and pointers, and was surrounded 
with all the respectable insignia of a hunter of olden 
time. “ It is a frivolous employment,” he observed, 
“ and I have long been sick of gaming.” The room 
was hung round with all sorts of game which is taken 
by these gentry; and his little daughter of four years of 
age brought me a book containing pictures of hares, 
foxes, fowls, and dogs, and quite scientifically explained 
the manner of taking them, the tact of the scenters, and 
the duty of pointers, so that I was initiated into the 
first principles of this fashionable trade; she could read 
intelligibly, and when I committed an error in the pro¬ 
nunciation or understanding of the manoeuvres of leaping 
ditches and following dogs, she set me right, wondering 
at my dulness, and sometimes rebuking it. This child 
had superior talents, and had the mother who cultivated 
them the spirit of Timothy’s mother and grandmother, 
she might and would be capable of much use in her age. 
Her father said she had a great taste for the tactics of 
hunting and fowling, and had acquired her knowledge 


336 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


of reading so young by the fondness of studying the 
pictures and spelling out the names of the game. Per¬ 
verted knowledge ! and when carried to the extent that 
some who call themselves ladies in Ireland have done 
and practised with that zest that many have manifested, 
it becomes a romantic mania, quite in keeping with the 
mountain squaw of the American forest, whose un¬ 
daunted prowess and athletic exercises give her a 
manliness of look and manner which would not dis¬ 
grace a Spartan. 

An opportunity of improving upon the lessons my 
young teacher had given me, afterwards offered itself in 
the person of a lady, whose talents at this pursuit had 
been cultivated to a high extent. She would on a cold 
morning jump upon her favourite hunting-horse, capa¬ 
risoned in true hunter’s style, her ready attendants, 
hounds, pointers, and terriers in advance or pursuit, and 
gallop at full speed, till some scenter should get upon 
the track of game; then hedge and ditch, valley and 
hill were scarcely heeded. The sure-footed horse knew 
his duty, and no circuitous route was taken if a hedge 
intervened, a hedge was leaped, or broken through, if 
bog or slough sunk him mid-deep, her cap and feather 
were soon seen tossing “ high and dry,” above all mire 
and danger, pursuing still faster as excitement grew 
warmer, till the lucky dogs gave signal that the object 
was secured ; then the delight, the ecstacy, of seeing the 
palpitating victim in its agonies, in the power of her 
faithful pets ; and thus the live-long day the sport con¬ 
tinued. At night she returned, with the dogs, game, 
and companion of her chase, which was sometimes her 
father, who had delighted from her childhood to cultivate 
this fondness in his daughter, sometimes it might be a 
brother, and sometimes a generous party ■would com¬ 
pose the company. But the coming home, the sit down 
for the recital of the pleasures of the day, if the vic¬ 
tim were a hare, this was a valuable equivalent, the 
manner of its flight, its narrow escapes, its terror, 
was so interesting, yes, delightful to witness, when the 
dogs were close upon it, and then the dying, all would 


OF IRELAND. 


337 


be minutely described, the dogs would be gathered and 
caressed, each by his pet name. A good dinner around the 
family table was served to each, and two or three of the 
largest always slept in a bed with some members of the 
family. The most exquisite tenderness was manifested 
lest the dear creatures should suffer cold or hunger, 
let, this tender-hearted Miss, who could not suffer"an 
unkind word to fall upon the ear of her favourite pointer, 
would go into raptures of delight at the agonies of the 
timid hare. Her features had seemed to acquire a sharp¬ 
ness, her expression a wildness, her skin a brownness, 
and her whole appearance was like a true hunter, livino- 
and enjoying the constant pursuit. 

There is a kind of enchantment, a witchery, hun°‘ 
round an open air exercise like this, which the more 
practised the more loved, till all that tends to elevate 
the mind, and cultivate the best principles of the heart 
are effaced ; and it is quite doubtful whether the sub¬ 
ject of this false pursuit ever can become truly and sub¬ 
stantially a valuable member of society. 

But Croy Lodge must not be forgotten. In and around 
it upon the exciting sea-shore, was much that would 
have given delight, had all been as plentiful about every 
hearth and table as was around the one I was sitting. 
The first Sabbath after my arrival, a written invitation 
irom an officer of the coast-guard was sent us to attend 
Church service across the strand in his watchhouse. 
An open boat conducted the family and myself to the 
thatched station-house, where in tasteful array were 
arranged officers, and all the instruments for killing, 
hanging in glistening order upon the walls, while in the 
midst of this embryo battle-field, the young curate 
from Belmullet read his prayers and sermon in a most 
becoming manner; and we returned in company with Mr. 
Hamilton, the coast-guard officer, who closed the evening 
by reading and prayer. A Sabbath of singular mixture— 
boating, prayers, and warlike paraphernalia, all in the 
same breath; by ministers, officers, and hunters, all be¬ 
lieving and practising these different professions. Re¬ 
ligion is strangely stirred up in Ireland, it makes a kind 

Q 


338 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


of hodge-podge in every thing, and is marked with little 
or no distinction in any thing. 

Monday, a visit to Doona across the strand, introduced 
me to some curiosities. The tide was ebbing, and for a 
quarter of a mile before reaching the castle we were to 
visit, we saw stumps of large trees, which centuries ago 
must have been a rich grove, though not a tree at pre¬ 
sent is any where on the coast, and the sea now occupies 
the entire lawn, where these once stood. The family 
residing near the castle are of respectable lineage, by the 
name of Daly, and in true Irish ancient style set before 
us meat, bread, and potatoes, the last the greatest com¬ 
pliment that could be paid a guest. The castle, Maxwell 
says, was built by Granauile; but not so, its whole 
structure is so different, its walls so much thicker than 
any in the days of Grana's reign, that its date must 
have been centuries before. Its history has an incident 
which will render it a lasting name. 

Not a century ago, the christening of a farmer’s child 
was in progress one night in a house near—the waiting 
boy was sent to get a fresh supply of turf—he dropped 
his torch of bogwood among the dry heap, which was 
piled in the castle, which so heated the walls, that they 
cracked and tumbled, and in their fall set fire to a mul¬ 
titude of casks of contraband spirits. The explosion so 
frighted the jolly inmates, that they fled in dreadful 
terror from the burning ruins, and they now stand 
as that night’s festival left them, giving the solitary 
advantage of showing the thickness of the walls, and 
the curious construction of a building, whose true origin 
has not certainly been defined. Once, it was a spot of 
proud grandeur; now a heap of desolation marks the 
whole for many a mile, where gardens and groves once 
were planted. 

Wednesday morning, at five, I took a car for Bangor, 
met the mail coach, and went through a cold dreary 
country for twenty miles, to Crossmolina. A little culti¬ 
vation and a few trees tell the traveller that the town is 
near. Six miles further we reached the hospitable house 
of Peter Kelly, mentioned in these pages—and surely no 


OF IRELAND. 


339 


character is better deserved than is his, for that excellent 
trait; and the kindness I received under his roof, never 
can be forgotten. Such families should live in the 
records of history, as pleasant mementos for the grateful, 
and examples for the parsimonious, that if such can be 
taught they may have the benefit of using hospitality 
without grudging. The cheerful sacrifices made in the 
house, that I might not only stay, but be made comfort¬ 
able, was so in contrast with the pinching and squeezing 
nhich often is met in families of the “ would-be-thou^ht 
Hospitable, that surely it might be said, that he de¬ 
scended from a generous stock, as instinct not cultivation 
seemed entirely the spring of action in him. 

The remembrance of Ballina is “sweet and pleasant 
to the soul.” That “ Codnach of gentle flood,” the 
sweet river Moyne, that flows quietly and richly through 
tue greeii meadows there, must leave pleasant associations 
in the minds of all lovers of nature who have wandered 
upon its banks. Though it was in the dark days of the 
famine, in the dreary month of February, that 1 entered 
Ballina, yet everything looked as if men and women of 
good taste and good feeling dwelt there. It was here that 
the indefatigable Kincaid laboured and died, in the year 
. His simple tablet hangs in the church where he 
preached ; but he needed no marble monument, for his 
name will be held in everlasting remembrance. “ He 
was eyes to the blind, and the cause that he knew not he 
sought out.” Free from sectarianism, he relieved all in 
his power, and spoke kindly to the bowed down; he 
wiped the tear from the eye of the widow and fatherless, 
and brought joy and gladness into the abodes of those 
who were “ forgotten by their neighbours.” He had a 
co-worker in his labours of love, who died a little before 
the famine, in the person of Captain Short. He had 
been a naval officer; but by the grace of God had 
become a follower of the meek and lowly Jesus, and 
devoted his time, talents, and wealth, to the cause of 
God and his fellow-creatures. In their lives, these two, 
like Jonathan and David, were united; and in their 
deaths they were not long divided. Mr. Kincaid, who 

Q 2 


340 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


was but thirty-five, left a widow, and son and daughter. 
The widow is worthy to bear his name. She too, like 
him, is found among the poor, promoting their temporal 
and spiritual good in every possible way. In her are 
united much that makes woman appear in that dig¬ 
nified light, that tells for what she is intended, and 
what she might be, if kept from the trammels of a 
false education, and early brought into the covenant of 
grace. 

I met the widow of Captain Short in the wilds of 
Brris, and her name and remembrance were pleasant to 
my heart. In her house in Ballina I passed happy 
hours. She entered feelingly into my object in visiting 
Ireland, and it is but just to say, that though not one 
pound was then at my command to give in charity, yet 
had thousands been in my possession to bestow, I could 
not have wished more kindness than was manifested to 
me then. Their courtesy seemed to be of the genuine 
kind flowing from the heart. The town has a popula¬ 
tion of 10,000 inhabitants, Episcopalians, Baptists, Pres¬ 
byterians, Methodists, and Roman Catholics ; the latter 
claiming the majority. The ladies here were much 
interested for the poor; a society for spinning and knit¬ 
ting was in operation, and the eagerness of the women 
to procure work was affectingly manifested on the day 
of meeting, when crowds would be in waiting in the hall, 
some falling upon their knees, begging for spinning to 
be given them, when the most that spinners could earn 
would be eight-pence a week. Those who prepared the 
flax by hacheling could earn from eighteen-pence to two 
shillings a week. So far have manufactures cheapened 
this sort of work, that the ladies who give it lose at 
that low price. The distress of Ballina was increasing, 
the poor-law system is impoverishing all the middle 
classes, who must become paupers, if not beggars, unless 
their taxes are reduced. No complaint was made in 
this place of the partiality or neglect of relieving officers, 
all seemed to bless the hand that fed them; and however 
rebellious the Connaught people may be, no indications 
were here given of insurrection. 


OF IRELAND. 


341 


The Baptist minister, who is a missionary, stationed 
there, with his praiseworthy wife and children, has been 
an instrument of doing much good. Without being a 
proselyter, he had gathered a church counting nearly 
a hundred, chiefly from the Romish population; his 
humble chapel stands open, the seats free ; and passers-by 
often step in from curiosity, and stay from inclination, 
till their hearts become impressed with the truth, and 
they are Anally led to unite in building up a church 
which they once supposed was heresy. The character of 
this missionary may be told in the few words which a 
lady of the protestant church uttered, in answer to— 
‘•Who is the most active labourer in town among the 
poor ? ’ “ Mr. Hamilton does the most good with the 

least noise, of any man among us.” 

A respectable banking-house is established in the town, 
at the head of which is an Englishman ; his active wife 
is an Irish lady. They are friends to Ireland, and not 
blind to the causes of its evils. 

It has been remarked, that most of the English who 
reside in Ireland become quite attached to both country 
and people, prejudices being blunted by nearer ac¬ 
quaintance. The six weeks of pleasant acquaintance 
there cultivated, must be exchanged for different scenes. 
This old seat of kings, with its raths, stones of memorial, 
green meadows, gentle flowing Moyne, and abbeys, but 
above all the people, courteous in manner and kind in 
action, must be left for ever. 

The last day of February, 1848, will be remembered as 
one that took me reluctantly away from a town and 
people peculiar^ endeared to my heart. I was not coldly 
hurried away to a coach alone, leaving the family in bed 
who had taken their farewell the evening before ; Miss 
O'Dowda, Miss Fox, and two little daughters of Peter 
Kelly accompanied me, and as the high-mettled horse 
gallopped and hurried us away, I looked a sad and tearful 
adieu. The sun was bright, the meadows on the banks 
of the Moyne were green, and the ride full of interest. 
The same sun was shining, the same river flowing—but 
where were the proud kings with their shields of gold 


342 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


and warlike bearing tliat once held their sway over this 
pretty landscape 1 Dead, dead! some moss-covered stone 
in a crumbling castle or abbey tells their demise, and 
the children of the mountains heedlessly trample on the 
monument. The children, yes, the children of Ireland, 
cling to my heart beyond and over all else, and when 
fond remembrance turns to Ballina, the courteous, well- 
disciplined, affectionate children of Peter Kelly, sometimes 
make me regret that I ever had seen them, because I shall 
see them no more. The Irish, both in high life and low, 
are a pattern to all Christian nations in the early train¬ 
ing of their children. No visitor has cause to dread the 
clamour in a house, or the confusion and breaking up of 
all that is comfortable and quiet at table in an Irish 
family. They are not first at table —first and best served 
—monopolizing all attention to their own pampered 
palates—selecting the most palatable food, &c., but 
seldom are they present with guests, and if so, their 
demeanour in most cases is an honour to the governess 
and mother who has disciplined them. We soon found 
ourselves on the borders of the celebrated Ponton Lakes; 
but who shall describe them 1 u Why,” said one in 
Ballina, “ among all the tourists who have visited Ireland, 
have none more particularly described these lakes, and 
the whole scenery V For this plain reason, description 
must here fail. There is so much in such varied con¬ 
fusion and beauty, that nothing is particularly marked ; 
the eye is lost in the view as a whole. Before the famine, 
I was whirled one cold day over the one-arched bridge 
by a surly coachman, who in answer to my inquiries of 
the picturesque scenery, said “ That it was a divil of a 
starved rocky place, and he was glad when he saw the 
end on’t.” The lakes on this sunny day had the finest 
opportunity to set off their transparency; and for miles 
they glistened, widening and narrowing, bordered by all 
manner of fantastic rocks and heath, till we reached 
the Ponton Bridge, which passes over a narrow neck, 
connecting the two lakes. These lakes are called Cullen 
and Coma. The current flows different ways in the 
course of the day, as Lough Cullen has no vent but to 


OF IRELAND. 


343 


discharge its overflowing waters into the larger lake. 
Lord Lucan has built an hotel, police barracks, and a 
few cottages, under the wooded rocks which overlook 
Lough Cullen; but all seem quite deserted under Cum¬ 
mer mountain, having only a care-taker to tell its 
pedigree. The rocks are thrown together upon one side, 
in masses, as if ready to fall asunder; some lying at the 
foot of cliffs, as if precipitated from them, and one of 
immense weight is poised upon a summit, by a small 
point, which to the passer-by appears as if jostling 
ready to fall; and we were told that a skein of silk 
could be drawn between the two rocks. We took the 
road from the lower lake to the left, and followed the 
tortuous ravine till we reached a small one-arched bridge, 
opposite -which is a most picturesque barren island, 
covered with heath, and a black rock, which contrast 
beautifully with the blue water of the lake; the wooded 
hillocks, bordering the lakes w'ith varied foot-paths, 
give the visitor all the advantages of pleasant views from 
their elevation upon the bold expanse, and the rocky 
shore upon the other side. 

In its moss-covered rocks, and richly wooded hills, 
Ponton resembles Glengariffe, but it wants the curling 
smoke between the rocks, and the tree-tops, ascending 
from turf cabins, and here and there a flaxen-headed 
urchin upon the top of the thatch to make the whole 
picture. We wound along, meeting now and then a 
sudden peep, through trees, on the path which leads 
three miles farther to the once tasteful domain of Mr. 
Anderson, which afterwards I visited with Mrs. Bourke, 
and found the mansion desolate, the walks grown up 
with weeds; and all the ancient grandeur, which once 
was here displayed, reminds one of the old blasted 
fortunes of a hunter, who had exhausted his wine-casks, 
drunk the last health, and sounded the last horn over 
these broad lakes, and now tattered and slip-shod, was 
recounting his hunting valour in some shebeen house, 
where whiskey, pipes, and song enliven the present, 
and put out all light of the past. The declining sun 
warned my friends that they must return; leaving me 


344 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


to walk, or sit upon a stone, while waiting for the coach 
that was to take me to Castlebar. I saw the last wave 
of the hands of the kind young ladies and flirting of 
the handkerchiefs of the little Kellys, as they whirled 
around the point which took me from their sight. It 
was not a mawkish sentimentality that made me feel 
like giving up the coming lonely hours to an indulgence 
of weeping. I was alone, in a land of strangers, amid 
famine, pestilence, and death, going I scarcely knew 
where, and could not expect to find another Ballina 
before me; and the last few weeks served to heighten 
the contrast of what had been suffered, and what must 
rationally be expected awaited me. The coach came, 
and shut me in, and no more was seen till Castlebar was 
reached. Here was a town that had tasted deeply the 
cup of woe; she had a splendid poor-house, and it 
lacked no inmates, yet the streets were filled with beg¬ 
gars. Many beautiful seats of respectable families are 
about the town, some in tolerable vigour, and some 
giving the last look upon former grandeur. Some in¬ 
teresting facts are recorded of this old assize town. 
Many trees have borne on their limbs the bodies of mis¬ 
erable culprits; and now the more genteel drop effects 
the same work in a different way. 

March 14 lit .—Criminal cases were going forward now 
in court, and the attorneys, Dublin-like, had come pre¬ 
pared with wigs and gowns, for the first time, a practice 
heretofore not in vogue in Connaught. The ladies in 
Castlebar were curious to behold this novel sight, but 
custom had prohibited them hitherto from appearing in 
these places. Two prisoners were to be tried for murder ; 
and wishing to know how Ireland, which has been some¬ 
what celebrated for trials of this kind, managed such 
cases, in company with a young lady of the family, 1 
went; we found a favourable position in the gallery, 
where we could see the court and prisoners. The case 
was this :—A publican had become offended with a neigh¬ 
bour, and determined to be revenged, by giving him a good 
beating. Not wishing to do it himself he called in two 
men, gave them an abundance of w r hiskey, and for a few' 


OF IRELAND. 


345 


shillings they agreed to do it well. The man was way¬ 
laid at nightfall, and the beating went on ; many joined 
in the affray, some to rescue, and some to assist. The man 
was killed. The evidence went to prove that one of the 
two gave a heavier blow, and he must have finished the 
work, consequently he was guilty. The attorney, Bourke, 
made a most able defence, and though a Roman catholic, 
he dwelt most solemnly on the last grand Assize, when 
that court, as well as the prisoners at the bar, must be 
judged by an impartial Judge, and condemned or ac¬ 
quitted, as their real state should be found. The judge 
was celebrated for clemency, and gave a plain impressive 
charge, that if the least doubt remained on their minds, 
they must lean to the side of mercy. 

What must have been the conflicting emotions of the 
miserable men, when that jury retired. They both stood 
coolly, as is the peculiar habit of that impetuous hasty 
people, in face of danger or death ; and the jury soon re¬ 
turned with a verdict of guilty for one. “ What a fal¬ 
lible tribunal is man ! How could the jury decide, in a 
riot like that, who was the murderer, and how could they 
decide that either intended murder ? It appeared a hap¬ 
hazard jump to get rid of the case. In the evening, I 
was in the company of three of the jury, and spoke of 
the responsibility of being a juror, where life and death 
are concerned. One most exultingly responded, that he 
liked the responsibility well, and should be glad to have 
it in his power to hang every murderer he could catch ; 
they deserved no mercy, and he would never show any.” 
A second one confirmed it, and all manifested that light¬ 
ness that was horrid for men who had just condemned a 
fellow-creature to the gallows. It is hoped that these 
jurymen were not a common specimen of the class in 
Ireland; if so, life must hang more on the prejudices and 
retaliating propensities of a jury, than on the evidence 
or merits of the case. The poor man was reprieved, and 
transported for life. The inhabitants had strenuously 
exerted themselves in his behalf, knowing that the 
publican was the instigator, and whiskey the instrument, 
of the murders. This “good creature” certainly has 
some marks in his forehead that look like the “ beast.” 

q 3 


346 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


Patrick’s-day was opened with a little apprehension 
on the part of the people throughout the country. “ Con¬ 
ciliation Hall” had gvien an invitation to all parts,for the 
people to assemble that day, and send a united and ear¬ 
nest appeal to government for a redress of grievances and 
Repeal of the Union, holding up France as an encourage¬ 
ment for action. The deplorable state of the country, 
the loss of confidence in landlords, and the abatement 
of the influence of the priests, left something to fear, 
that when so many should be assembled, the irascible 
temper of the nation would be stirred up to dangerous 
acts. In Castlebar, the people collected had mass; 
the priest exhorted them to be quiet; and in the 
evening the principal houses were illuminated. Boys 
assembled, lit up a tar-barrel, drew it through the 
streets, shouting, “Hurra for the Republic,” while men 
walked soberly on, more as if following a hearse than if 
stimulating their countrymen to deeds of valour, or re¬ 
joicing at conquest. The mirth of the land has empha¬ 
tically ceased, the spirit is broken ; every effort at con¬ 
viviality appears as if making a last struggle for life. 
The shamrock was sprinkled here and there upon a hat, 
but, like its wearer, seemed drooping, as being conscious 
that its bloom was scathed and its beauty dying for ever. 
The deep disease in this body politic has never been 
thoroughly probed, and the evil lies where probably it 
has been least suspected. The habits of the higher classes 
for centuries have had little tendency to enlighten or 
moralize the lower order, and yet, when all is taken into 
consideration, drinking habits included, the scale must 
preponderate in favour of the latter. 

Some respectable families in and about Castlebar 
were doing to their utmost for the poor. Mr. Stoney, 
the rector, was employing many of them, in spinning, 
but so isolated were these efforts, that little could be 
done to stay the plague. Two miles from Castlebar I 
spent a Sabbath in the family of the widow Fitzgerald, 
relict of a British Officer, who was an English lady from 
the Isle of Wight, much attached to Ireland. Though 
the mother of a numerous family, she draws, paints, and 


OP IRELAND. 


347 - 


plays on tlie piano, as in the days of her youth. Her 
spacious drawing-rooms are hung around with elegant 
specimens of her taste in painting; and then 73 years 
of age she appeared to have lost none of the vigour of 
intellect which she must have possessed in her youth. 
A son-in-law, a meek believer, the protestant curate of 
the parish, was residing with her, and the whole consti¬ 
tuted a family of love and peace, and of the kindest 
feelings towards the poor. 

An unexpected invitation to visit the parish of Partra, 
by the active catholic curate who resided there, was ac¬ 
cepted. “ You will find him,” a protestant gentleman 
remarked, “ an active honourable man among the poor, and 
one who has done much good.” The country about him 
scarcely had a parallel, even in Skibbereen. Eleven miles 
from Castlebar opened a bright spot of taste —a glebe 
house and tidy new chapel, which this indefatigable 
curate had built, in spite of all poverty. In the chapel 
w’ere a few half-dead children huddled upon the floor, 
some around the altar, with their writing books upon 
the steps for desks, without table or benches. These the 
curate had gathered among the starving, for the sake of 
the black bread, which kept them barely alive. The 
neighbourhood abounds in novelties, strange and roman¬ 
tic, but most of them must be passed over, to leave room 
for details of the people. This indefatigable man had 
caused a fever-shed to be erected, on a bog bordering upon 
the Lake of Musk, where pure air is circulating, and a 
snug cottage stands near, in which the matron who keeps 
the hospital resides. Thirty invalids were here, mostly 
sick from the effects of hunger, with swollen legs, many 
of them past all hope. Far away from any inhabitant, 
this hospital, cottage, and their inmates stood, struggling 
to keep up the dying flame of life, only to suffer fresh and 
hopeless troubles. Solitary as this region everywhere 
is, it was once celebrated ground. That day’s excursion 
to me was full of strange scenes and strange anecdotes. 
Here stood the stone raised in memory of the death of 
John, the “priest killer here is the site of an ancient 
Abbey, but twelve feet wide; here , on the borders of the 


348 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


lake, is an anvil belonging to a forge, which is of such 
weight that it has never been raised from the bed into 
which it has sunk, and where it is supposed to have lain 
for centuries. An iron-ore bed is near the spot, as useless 
as all materials for improvement are in Ireland. 

This parish borders on the famous Joyce country, and 
is replete with interest, where in days of yore robbers 
and murderers sported at will. A noted robber, by the 
name of Mitchell, was taken in a house pointed out, now 
in a crumbling state, but then occupied by a landlord 
who entertained the mountain robber, and had even 
bargained away his daughter to this desperado. A hand¬ 
some reward was offered for securing this fearful prowler, 
and the landlord, in spite of family relation or treaty, 
determined to make sure the prize. One night when 
Mitchell, overcome with a mountain excursion of plun¬ 
der, had gone to sleep with his pistols near him, the 
landlord wetted the pans, went out and took in the 
magistrates to Mitchell’s bed, who was still asleep, but 
soon awaked—seized his pistols—they refused to act. 
He was secured, bound, and finally executed. 

On the route this day, among all the rarities, was the 
christening of an infant in a miserable dark cabin by this 
priest, which he assured me w r as the only birth he had 
known for months. May I never see the like again. The 
dark mud cabin—the straw on which the mother lay— 
the haggard countenances of the starving group—the 
wooden bovd of “ holy water”—the plate of salt—the 
mummery of the priest, while he w r as putting the salt 
of grace to its lips, the blowing with his breath to infuse 
the regenerating spirit into the soul, were such a trifling, 
fearful combination of nonsense and profanity to my 
dark mind, that it was quite difficult to keep a usual 
degree of sobriety, but the priest escaped with no other 
lecture than an exclamation of nonsense, when we were 
out of the cabin. To do these poor priests justice, they 
have laboured long and hard since the famine, and have 
suffered intensely. They have the most trying diffi¬ 
culties to encounter, without any remuneration. In the 
best of times their stipulated sum is but ten pounds a 


OF IRELAND. 


349 


year, the remainder must be made up by “ book and by 
crook.” Weddings and christenings formerly gave what 
the generosity of guests could bestow, which was always 
so small, that a protestant lady once, from pure benevo¬ 
lence, attended one of these cabin weddings in the poor 
parts of the country, and put four pounds into the plate 
as it was passed round. She said the priest was a peace¬ 
able citizen, very poor and very kind, and why should 
she not give this, which she could spare, and he needed. 
In the famine, night and day, their services were requi¬ 
site, no fevers or loathsome dens, and even caves could 
exonerate them, they must go when called, and this with¬ 
out any remuneration. One day’s excursion will better 
illustrate this fact, than general remarks can. I went 
to a spot on purpose to see for myself, and that day 
asked the priest to show me the most that he could of 
the realities of the famine, and soon I Avas gratified : the 
sight was too much, and in a few hours my way was 
made back in the rain over the fearful waste alone to 
the glebe-house. We were soon met by applicants of 
all description begging on their knees, clinging fast to 
the poor man, begging for God’s sake that he would give 
them letters to the relieving officer for the pound of 
meal, asking advice hoiv and what to do, when they had 
pulled down their cabins and had no shelter; the rain 
was falling, the roads bad, and the multitude so increased 
as we proceeded that it was very difficult to make our 
way. He told them, they must let me pass decently as 
a stranger, who had come out to see them through pity, 
and kindly added, “ You know I would relieve you, but 
cannot.” Not one impatient word ever escaped him 
through the whole, although their unreasonable importu¬ 
nities were dreadfully tormenting. I had heard so many 
relieving officers and distributors scold and threaten, 
and had struggled so hard myself to keep patient with¬ 
out always succeeding, that I inquired how he kept 
without scolding. His answer was —“ Sure, as I can give 
them no money, I should give them kind words.” Here 
were cabins torn down in heaps, and here were the poor 
wretched starving women and children crawling together 


350 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


by the side of ditches, or in some cabin still standing, to 
get shelter from the rain, scattered too, over a wide 
extent of country. “ What shall I do V’ said the despair¬ 
ing priest; “ let me die rather than witness daily such 
scenes as I cannot relieve.” I left him to go farther 
into the mountains, where some of the dying had sent 
for him, and ascended a little eminence alone, and saw 
the smoke of the humble abode of the parish priest, by 
the name of Ward, and all without and within gave 
proof, that if he had lived for gain, he had missed the 
road thither. He was a simple-minded priest of the 
old school of Ireland, and had added no new-fangled 
notions of modern style, and welcomed me to his house 
like an old patriarch of four thousand years ago; the 
poor found in him a friend whose warm heart and open 
hand always were ready to give, so long as he had any 
thing to bestow. Thirteen hundred of his parishioners 
had died in Partra of the famine in twelve months, out 
of a population of six thousand. I returned home with 
benediction added to blessing upon my head, for having 
come to visit so poor and so neglected a people as his 
in those desolate mountains. The curate did not reach 
home till late in the evening drenched with rain; he had 
left without shelter a dying man, with his wife and 
daughter standing by, and giving them the last sixpence 
he had returned, for he could do nothing more. At the 
dawning of day the daughter stood at his window, say¬ 
ing her father was dead, and begged that he would go 
and do something to assist in putting him away from 
the dogs! 

Thursday, April 1 3th .—A drive to Balinrobe presented 
a beautiful variety of scenery. Lake Carra is spread out, 
dotted with islands, and indented by peninsulas, with a 
long bridge across it, called Keel, inferior to none but 
Ponton, three miles from the glebe, and we were in 
sight of the tall steeple of the chapel, towering presump¬ 
tuously for so unpopular a religion ; for time ivas when 
the Romish church was not allowed steeples of any 
dimensions, and they now make no great pretensions in 
the steeple way. 


OF IRELAND. 


351 


The town of Balinrobe is somewhat picturesque, and 
was once the assize town of Mayo; but the judges saw fit 
to remove it to Castlebar; and report says, that some 
trifling complaint concerning bakers and cooks was the 
cause ; but the town still boasts a famous poor-house, 
well filled, a proud barrack, with a noble supply of the 
fighting gentry, placed there, as we are told, to make up 
for the removal of the assizes. A beautiful river bor¬ 
dered with trees, winds through the town, occasionally 
a pretty cottage peeping between them, with two ivy- 
covered ancient ruins, among tombstones and naked 
skulls, with inscriptions of such ancient date, that time 
had worn them so that they were almost entirely defaced. 

An invitation to dine at Dr. Rafe’s, introduced me to 
a lady, in Mrs. R, who might justly be classed among 
intellects and attainments of the highest order; I had 
seen many well-bred ladies in Connaught, but not one 
who was better acquainted with books, and who could 
converse on something beyond small talk with gieatei 
facility and understanding than Mrs. R. 

From Balinrobe, the famous Cong was visited, known 
as containing so many natural curiosities and ancient 
historical events. The abbey here is one of great interest, 
laro-e, and designed with exquisite carvings, and beauti¬ 
ful arches of doors and windows. dhe niches are 
entirely filled wdth bones. Here is interred the famous 
Roderic O’Connor, among the neglected rubbish ; and 
priests and people in one confused mass, mingling their 
dust among peasants and beggars. But the beauty of 
Cong is, that ordained by nature ; the river, and green 
meadow 7 ', and hillock, where stands a most enchanting 
lodge, backed with wood, which is seen with great 
advantage from the top of a hill upon the opposite side, 
wdiich every tourist should be mindful to ascend. 

The lake, the town, the church standing in the w-alls 
of the old abbey, the river, lodge, and wood in front, a 
promontory of the brightest green ; and, as a finish, the 
pier, containing some of the choicest stones of the abbey 
carved with hieroglyphics, give to the whole picture a 
view beautiful and novel in the extreme. The “ Horse 


352 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


Discovery,” is a chasm into which a horse plunged when 
ploughing. The chasm is now descended by artificial 
stone steps, and standing upon the bottom, the water is 
seen sparkling far back and murmuring at your feet in 
darkness. Spars are hanging from the roof, and the 
aperture above is fringed with vines and ivy, giving a 
sombre look to the whole. 

The “ Lady’s Buttery,” comes next; this is a shelving 
rock, covered with grass and shrubbery, under which 
flows the river Al, somewhat rapidly, and is lost in the 
lake some quarter of a mile below. 

The “Pigeon Hole” is the lion of Cong; it is so 
called because pigeons are wont to make nests in the 
dome. This hole is descended by forty-two stone steps, 
quite steep, and at the bottom is the river that runs 
through the “Buttery,” flowing most cheerfully here, 
and forming a little eddy in which fish are sporting. 
These caused great excitement among the troop that 
had followed us, a legend being told, that the fish in 
this pool had lived there ever since its discovery, with¬ 
out multiplying or decreasing; these patriarchs conse¬ 
quently are of very ancient date; and a young lad told 
us that one of these fathers had been caught, and put 
upon a gridiron to broil, but made his escape into the 
water, and has now the marks upon his ribs, so that 
from age to age he has been traced; but he can never 
be caught, nor can any of his comrades be induced to 
nibble a bait. The fish had not been seen for a long 
time, and the company and curate were highly rejoiced 
that these black gentlemen should come out to salute 
us. The river after passing this eddy flows rapidly 
through a fearful cavern, arched over with black stones, 
many of which seem to have tumbled down, and lay 
piled along through the dark chamber ; an old woman, 
for many a year, had been the keeper of this cavern, 
and with a bundle of dried rushes lighted, she led the 
visitors on, showing a lofty ceiling of stone, cut in the 
most fantastical shapes. The fearful slippery passage, 
over slimy and uneven rocks tumbled and piled together, 
the music of the water hastening away to hide itself 


OF IRELAND. 


353 


under the earth again, the grand dome of black stone, 
and the graceful curtains of the ivy hanging and swing¬ 
ing at ease, all lighted up by the glaring torch, made an 
underground picture, sublime, terrific, and beautiful in 
the extreme. This profitable estate is now in possession 
of the grandaughter of the lately deceased inheritor; 
and the elasticity of the young damsel testified to her 
full confidence in her own powers, as well as hopes of a 
fortune in the end. The environs of Cong contain a 
quantity of black stone which is much used in building, 
covering the ground in layers, through the fields about 
the town. 

A dinner was in waiting at Dr. Rafe’s, and no one 
could have thought, when looking upon the table, that 
famine was raging without. On a beautiful site at 
Dalinrobe, this indefatigable priest has leased a piece of 
thirty acres of land, at one shilling per acre, where he 
intends building a monastery for nuns and children of 
the poor. A curious stone stands upon the spot, and no 
manuscript has yet told its pedigree; but its lofty up¬ 
right bearing says it is of noble origin. 

The industry of this curate appears, if not superna¬ 
tural , urged on by an irresistible impulse, almost un¬ 
paralleled. Shall it be credited, that in thirteen weeks 
he converted a barren spot into a fine site for a chapel 
and glebe-house. After demolishing the old chapel, he 
built and finished them both in excellent taste. The 
wall, which surrounds a large handsome lawn before the 
house, is built of stone, which was quarried in one day, 
and the whole completed in three hours. The entire 
parish were invited to the chapel to hear mass at nine 
o’clock; then all were encouraged with having music and 
amusement to their hearts’ content when the work should 
be finished. 800 assembled. The curate assigned a 
certain portion to be erected by so many, and thus con¬ 
fusion was prevented—the work went orderly on. And 
this three hours’ labour completed a wall enclosing 
the chapel and glebe-house, fringed upon the top in 
front with a peculiar kind of stone from the lake, which 
is jagged, porous, and black, and when struck, gives a 


354 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


sound like iron. The wall is whitewashed, the stones 
upon the top left black, adding an air of ornament to 
the whole. A young shrubbery is already looking up in 
the door yard, giving to the lately barren waste bog an 
appearance “ like a young garden, fresh and green.” 

Those people, called Roman catholics, certainly must 
astonish the orthodox world by their untiring zeal for 
the good of their church in Ireland. With every thing 
to oppose they urge on their way ; a government church 
forcing upon them restrictive laws very severe, and a 
labouring class of real paupers ; with these drawbacks 
they build chapels, finish them well, and “ through evil 
and through good report,” nakedness and famine, they 
urge their way, erecting chapels in the midst almost of 
hecatombs of the slain ! The curate was asked where he 
got money for all this ; “ Money Avas not wanted,” Avas 
the ansAver. SeA r enty carts Avere in a train drawing the 
stone when cut from the quarry. The stone was free — 
labour was free —and every parishioner performed his 
part cheerfully. The little money that was required for 
the trimmings the bishop supplied. The coarse trite 
saying of John Runyan’s imprisonment may fitly be 
applied to the government church in Ireland. A writer 
remarks, that “ the devil run himself out in his OAvn 
shoes, Avhen he put John Runyan in jail.” 

The curate shall be dismissed after one more allusion 
to his ever awake zeal in all and every thing. The poor- 
house in Ralinrobe did not exactly suit his notions of 
justice to the inmates. He called upon the guardians, 
and apprized them that a fearless scrutinizing friend to 
the poor, from the United States, was visiting all the 
soup-shops” and “ AA r orkhouses” in Ireland, and AA T as 
“ snowing up” the dishonesty practised among them, by 
taking notes, which Avere printed for the information 
oi government. Hot suspecting that my name had 
gone before, in the innocence of my heart my way 
was made thither, and Avas happily disappointed at 
miding the house in such excellent order, officers and 
servants were all at their posts, and everything done to 
maxe the visit most agreeable, yet there Avas such an 


OF IRELAND. 


3 55 


appearance of affectation in the whole that thoughts did 
arise whether in reality all was so. The purloining of 
the public benefactions since the famine, has given so 
much cause for suspicion, that all whose hands are not 
thoroughly clean, shrink from observation. 

The guardians of the poor in Ireland will have a 
sad account to render at the last, in many cases, it is 
greatly to be feared. Feeding the poor on two scanty 
meals of miserable food, when there are funds sufficient, 
has been the accusation which has proved too true in 
many parts, and has operated so powerfully upon the 
inmates, that when once out they have chosen death out- 
of-doors rather than going in again. 

I found some few hungry men on my way putting a 
few potatoes in a field, and inquired why they should 
lose their potatoes and their time in this hopeless under¬ 
taking ? The answer was “ Plaise God we’ll have the 
potatoe again.” The “potatoe again,” is the last wreck 
to which they are still clinging. 

April llth .—With a sister of Peter Kelly, I vmnt to 
“ Old Head,” and was first introduced into one of the 
dreadful pauper schools, where ninety children received 
a piece of black bread once a-day. It v r as a sad sight, 
most of them were in a state of rags, barefooted, and 
squatted on the floor, waiting for a few ounces of bread, 
with but here and there a fragment of a book. The 
clean schoolmaster, on a cold day, was clad in a white 
vest and linen pantaloons, making the last effort to 
appear respectable, labouring for the remuneration of 
a penny a week from each family, if by chance the family 
could furnish it. These ninety all belonged to Mrs. 
Garvey’s tenantry, and there were others looking on 
which had come in likewise, not belonging to her lands, 
w r ho wishfully stood by, w'ithout receiving one morsel. 
I looked till my satiated eyes turned away at a pitiful 
sight like this. Neither the neat cottage, the old sea, nor 
my favourite Croagh Patrick, could give satisfaction in 
a wulderness of woe like this. When will these dreadful 
scenes find an end ? 

Nought but desolation and death reigned; and the 


356 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


voice of nature, which was always so pleasant on the 
sea-coast, now, united with the whistling of the wind, 
seemed only to be howling in sad response to the moans 
and entreaties of the starving around me. The “holy 
well,” where the inimitable drawing of the blind girl was 
taken, is near this place. In years gone by this well was 
a frequented spot, where invalids went to be healed. It 
is now surrounded by stone, covered with earth, and a 
path about gives the trodden impress of many a knee, 
where the postulant goes round seven times, repeating a 
“ Paternoster” at every revolution, and drops a stone, 
which tells that the duty is performed. A hole is shewn 
in a stone, where the holy St. Patrick knelt till he wore 
the stone away. A poor peasant girl, in the simplicity 
of her heart, explained all the ceremonies of the devotees 
and virtues of the well, regretting that the priests had 
forbidden the practice now. A company soon entered 
the church-yard and set down a white coffin, waiting 
till the widow of the deceased should bring a spade to 
open the grave; and while the dirt was being taken 
away she sat down, leaning upon the coffin, setting up 
the Irish wail in the most pathetic manner; she, by 
snatches, rehearsed his good qualities, then burst into a 
gush of tears, then commenced in Irish, as the meagre 
English has no words to express the height of grief, 
madness, or joy. The ground was opened but a few 
inches when the coffin of another was touched. The 
grave-yards are everywhere filled so near the surface 
that dogs have access, and some parts of the body are 
often exposed. 

A debate was now in progress respecting good works 
and the importance of being baptised into the true church. 
Mrs. G., who professed to be a papist, disputed the ground 
with them, till the contest became so sharp that I re¬ 
tired, for their darkness was painful; it seemed like the 
valley and shadow of death, temporally and spiritually. 

The little town of Louisburgh, two miles from “ Old 
Head,” had suffered extremely. An active priest and 
faithful protestant curate were doing to their utmost to 
mitigate the suffering, which was like throwing dust in 


OF IRELAND. 


357 


the wind ; lost , lost for ever—the work of death goes on, 
and what is repaired to-day is broken down to-morrow. 
Many have fallen under their labours. The graves of the 
protestant curate and his wife were pointed out to me in 
the church-yard, who had fallen since the famine, in the 
excess of their labour ; and the present curate and his 
praiseworthy wife, unless they have supernatural strength, 
cannot long keep up the dreadful struggle. Pie employed 
as many labourers as he could pay, at four-pence a-day, 
and at four o’clock, these “ lazy” ones would often be 
waiting at his gate to go to their work. He was one day 
found dining with the priest, and the thing was so novel, 
that I expressed a pleasant surprise, when he answered, 
“ I have consulted no one’s opinion respecting the pro¬ 
priety of my doing so j I found,” he added, “ on coming 
here, this man a warm-hearted friend to the poor, doing 
all the good in his power, without any regard to party, 
and determined to treat him as a neighbour and friend, 
and have as yet seen no cause to regret it.” This same 
priest was not able to walk, having been sick, but he was 
conveyed in a carriage to Mrs. Garvey s, and most cour¬ 
teously thanked me for coming into that miserable neigh¬ 
bourhood, and offered to provide some one, at his ou n ex¬ 
pense, to convey me into the Killery mountains, to see the 
inimitable scenery, and the wretched inhabitants that 
dwell there. In company with the wife of the curate, and 
the physician, I went there. The morning was unusually 
sunny, but the horrors of that day were inferior to none 
ever witnessed. The road was rough, and we constantly 
were meeting pale, meagre-looking men, who were on 
their way from the mountains to break stones, and pile 
them mountain-high, for the paltry compensation ot a 
pound of meal a-day ; these men had put all their 
seed into the ground, and if they gave up their cabins, 
they must leave the crop for the landlord to reap, while 
they must be in a poor-house or in the open air. This 
appeared to be the last bitter drug in Ireland’s cup ot 
woe ! Why 1 a poor man was asked, whom we met 
dragging sea-weed to put upon his potato field, “ do you 
do this, when you tell us you expect to go into the poor- 


358 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


house, and leave jour crop to another V’ “ I put it on, 
hoping that God Almighty will send me the work to get 
a bit.” 

We met flocks of wretched children going to school for 
the “bit of bread,” some crying with hunger, and some 
begging to get in without the penny which was required 
for their tuition. The poor little emaciated creatures 
went weeping away, one saying he had been “looking- 
for the penny all day yesterday, and could not get it/’ 
The doctor who accompanied us returned to report to the 
priest the cruelty of the relieving-officer and teacher, but 
this neither frightened or softened these hard hearts. 
These people are shut in by mountains and the sea 
on one side, and roads passable only on foot by the 
other, having no bridges, and the paths entirely lost in 
some places among the stones. We left our carriage, and 
walked as we could ; and though we met multitudes in 
the last stages of suffering, yet not one through that day 
asked charity, and in one case the common hospitality 
showed itself, by offering us milk when we asked for 
water. This day I saw enough, and my heart was sick— 
sick. The next morning, the protestant curate wished 
me to go early to the field, and see the willing labourers 
in his employ. He called one to the hedge, and asked if 
he had the potatoes in his pocket which he had gathered 
some days ago. The man took out a handful of small 
ones. “ These,” said the curate, (the tear starting to his 
eye) “is what this man found in spading up the ground 
here ; and so little have his family to eat at home, that 
he has carried them in his pocket, till he can find some 
little spot where he may plant them, lest if he should 
leave them in the cabin, they would be eaten. This man 
had a family of four to support on the four-pence earned 
in that field.” 

One interesting and last excursion ended my painful 
visit in this romantic desolate region. The company 
were made up of Mrs. Garvey, a cousin of hers of the 
same name, a widow who possessed land in these vales 
and mountains for four miles, and her two sons. The 
distance was eight miles, the road narrow, winding, 


OF IRELAND. 


359 


rocky, and in some places entirely lost, excepting the 
foot-path of the shepherds. Our vehicle was a cart with 
a bed in it for the accommodation of the two ladies, who 
had never like me been jolted on this wise, and were 
now submitting to all this hardship for my amusement. 
With much fixing and re-fixing, ordering and re-order¬ 
ing, bed, baskets of lunch, extra cloaks, and so on, all 
adjusted, we were “well under way” for these “Alps on 
Alps.” We had not made more than two miles of this 
journey, when stones, brooks, and no road said “Ye can 
go no further.” We did, by getting out and lifting the 
cart, and at length found ourselves in a flat vale with a 
pretty river flowing through it. Scattered here and 
there were the once comfortable cabins of the tenants of 
the last-named Mrs. G., now every cabin either deserted 
or suffering in silent hopelessness, and all the land lying- 
waste. 

The poor cabiners would meet us, and say to their 
landlady, “ God bless ye, and once ye didn’t see us so, 
but now we are all destrawed.” “And how Mary or 
Bridget do you get on ?—have you any meal ?—and I am 
sorry that I couldn’t send you more,” &c., were the salu¬ 
tations of this kind landlady, who had not received one 
pound of rent since the famine. I thanked her most 
gratefully for the favour she bestowed on me, in keeping 
from my ears those heart-scathing words to the starving- 
poor I had heard so much from landlords and relieving 
officers during the famine. “ I could not upbraid them,” 
she answered, “ for until the famine, scarcely a pound of 
rent has been lost by them all; and my only sorrow is, 
that I can do nothing to keep them alive, and not lose 
them from the land.” Four miles took us to the foot of 
a pile of “ Alps,” at the bottom of which was sleeping a 
sweet lake, cradling in its bosom a little green shrubbery 
island, the habitation of wild fowl entirely. The preci¬ 
pitous rocky path made it impossible to use the cart, 
and our crushed clumsy feet were now put in requisi¬ 
tion. Though our walk was a rugged one, yet we were 
not losers; for Ireland, above all other countries, pro¬ 
bably should be visited in this way, having two superior 


360 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


advantages—first, there is so much of the romantic 
reality to be seen everywhere, both in antiquities and 
nature ; and second, the courtesy of the peasants, which 
makes every rough place easy ; and if they have not 
milk to offer you, the purest water that ever sparkled 
in fountain or well is springing up everywhere to refresh 
the traveller. We had nature to-day in her full dress, 
and besides the pleasure of seeing that heartfelt welcome 
which was manifested towards the “ blessed landlady,” I 
contrasted it with a walk taken one sunny day with a 
rich landlord, a few months before, whose tenants were 
all “ lazy dogshe had tried them twenty-five years 
and could make nothing out of them, and now they 
were starving they were all looking to him, &c. These 
tenants when they saw us approaching, walked away 
without any recognition ; or if in close contact, they 
gave a slight touch of the hat, with no welcome, nor 
“ blessed landlord.” “ Your tenants, sir,” I observed, “ do 
not appear so hearty and courteous as is customary for the 
mountain peasants in many places.” “ I told you I could 
never make anything out of them, and intend clearing 
the whole land another year and get a better set.” The 
landlady this day was pointing me from cabin to cabin, 
where lived an industrious man or tidy woman, and “1 
must lose them all.” Froud mountain rose, in conical 
form upon mountain, as if by some volcano they had 
been shot up perpendicularly ; streamlets were trickling 
from their sides, and the rich heath and sedge covered 
their surface. These lofty piles give pasturage to cattle, 
sheep, and goats, and we saw the faithful shepherd’s dog 
leaping from rock to rock, gathering the flock to drive 
them to better forage, and the little shepherd girl sitting 
upon a crag to watch the little charge; and under the 
mountain was nestled the cabin of the herder, who for 
twenty years he told us had guarded the flocks upon the 
tops and sides of these lofty mountains. By the way- 
side was a large fold, into which all the sheep are 
gathered when the different owners wish to ascertain if 
any are missing, or when any are wanted for use. The 
owner and not the shepherd sustains the loss, if the 


OF IRELAND. 


361 


number be wanting. Tbe sheep live and thrive upon 
these rich mountains, summer and winter. The moun¬ 
tain goat, so peculiarly adapted for climbing the crags, 
we saw here ; his shaggy mane waving in the breeze, as 
he nibbled the sedge and heath upon the highest peaks. 
Our road was upon a fearfully precipitous side of a hill, 
hanging over the lake. We had re-ascended the cart and 
was obliged again to leave it, and the chubby Mrs. Garvey, 
in doing so, like a sack of wool, made a somerset and 
rolled upon rough stones; her justifiable shrieks were 
echoed by our hearty 0 dears! for we expected to see 
her mangled arms, body and legs, making their fearful 
tumble into the lake below. When we saw her peep 
out from under her mutilated bonnet, and found that 
life was still in her, though she insisted that she was 
dead, quite dead ! my uncourteous laughing powers had 
no alternative but to drop into a dead grave silence, 
which was more uncourteous still; for united with that 
natural abstractedness into which my mind always drops 
when in the midst of nature’s grand scenery, my appear¬ 
ance amounted to a state of sullenness. We hobbled 
down the hill, leading our unfortunate tumbler, right 
glad that she was not actually broken in pieces by the 
fall, though certainly she was not benefited by it for the 
day. We reached a little flat lawn by the side of the 
lake, took our “ pic nic,” and commenced new difficulties : 
a stream must be crossed—there was neither bridge or 
stepping-stone, nor could the cart assist us. We wan¬ 
dered to and fro—at last, taking the clothing from our 
feet, we waded over slippery stones and gained the shore, 
not far from the Adelphi Lodge. Its whereabouts we 
knew by the evergreens that adorned the mountains. 
We wound round a path which showed us on the right 
a conical heath mountain, lost in the skies; and no 
sooner had we passed that than one on the left, as 
though broken from its side, rose in view. Thus we 
proceeded, threading our way by the side of a pretty 
stream, till we saw the cottage, built by Lord Sligo, now 
in possession of the Plunkets, three brothers, who named 
it Adelphi. 


R 


332 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


A river winds round the domain, which connects the 
sea cn the left with the lake on the right, a mountain 
of the grandest and boldest stands in front of the cottage, 
without a tree, presenting a most beautiful picture of 
light and shade; the sides being spotted with a yellow 
appearance mixed with the heath and sedge, reconciling 
the eye to the absence of the tree. At the back of the 
lodge stands another like mountain ; forming, in unison 
with everything around, a scenery distinct from any 
other in Ireland. It was once the resort of the gay, 
•where resounded the bugle and hunter’s horn : its lakes, 
its river, its mountains, gardens, cascades, and walks, 
now 7 appear as if the struggling gardener was trimming 
here and there a festoon, and fastening a decaying plant 
anew to some supporting stalk, that he might keep alive 
a relic or two of its former loveliness; but alas! the beauty 
of Ireland is departing, her gay ones are becoming sad; 
the cruel sport of the hunter which once was the delight 
of the fashionable has ceased, and the timid hare may 
now trip and leap among the brakes and ferns, without 
starting at the bark of the fearful packhound in pur¬ 
suit. The setting sun, as it warned us to depart, gave 
such an enchanting look to the dark mountains hanging 
over the lake and pretty river, that I could not but— 

“ Cast a longing, lingering look behind.” 

There was a fearful eight miles in advance; the stream 
must be waded, the precipitous footpath hanging over 
the lake at nightfall was before us ; but so com¬ 
pletely abstracted had I become, that if no company had 
been there to have urged me forward, the moonlight, if 
not the morning, might have found me sitting, looking 
alternately at the mountains and lakes. We made our 
way through the defile, and reaching a little hamlet, a 
solitary man came to meet us, and welcomed me in true 
Irish style to his country, adding, “in a twelvemonth I 
hope to be in yer country.” A young son had gone two 
years before, and sent him back <£19. for the voyage. 
“ I am leaving/ said he, “ praise God, a good landlady, 
who can do no more for us, and we can do nothing for her/’ 


OF IRELAND. 


363 


;; This man,” said Mrs. Garvey, “ is one of mybest tenants, 
and I am lost by parting with him, but cannot ask him 
to stop.” 

This romantic tour ended in the evening, and I 
stopped with the “good landlady” over the night, and 
arose while all were asleep in the morning, and scoured 
through the pretty wood that fringed the river, and 
back of the house, and selected the choicest moss- 
dotted stones, both great and small, for a rockery; and 
when the labourers had arisen, they assisted in carrying 
and wheeling them upon the lawn which fronted the cot¬ 
tage and bordered the stream, and around a solitary young 
fir standing there, we placed these stones. The daisy 
and primrose were in bloom—these were dug and planted 
in the niches, while the landlady added her skill in setting 
the young plants, when, in three hours—the same time 
that the wall of the Partra Priest was in building— 
there was a rockery of firm finish, blooming with the 
young flowers of spring. This was my last work in the 
county of Mayo, and frivolous as it might be, it was so in 
accordance with the ancient customs of Ireland, and my 
own feelings too, that when I turned from it for ever, I 
said, “ Stand there , when the hand that raised you shall 
he among the dead; and say to the enquiring traveller 
who may visit this spot, that Asenath Nicholson of New 
York, raised these stones, as a memento of the suffering 
country she so much pitied and loved, and as a mo¬ 
nument of gratitude to the God who had conducted her 
safely through all the dangerous scenes encountered while 
passing over it .” 

A branch of the Garvey family lives near Murrisk 
Abbey, situated on Clew Bay, at the foot of the Croagh 
Patrick. The house stands near the sea embosomed 
in wood, a garden of three acres, with useful horticul¬ 
tural productions, at the back of it, and the abbey at a 
little distance. The walls of the abbey are of smooth 
stone in small blocks; the building contains numerous 
apartments. A place is reserved for the burying of 
priests, and a pile of their leg and arm-bones are now 
in a window to leave room for fresh inmates. 

r 2 


364 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


The Irish appear to have no regard for their dead 
when the flesh is consumed, but leave the bones to bleach 
in the sun, and the skulls to be kicked about as foot-balls 
in any place. A return through Westport to Castlebar 
gave a sight of suffering and degradation which could 
not be heightened. A coach is always the rallying point 
for beggars; and this morning the Roman Catholic Dean 
was upon the top, and I went out to take my seat, but 
was happy to retreat into a shop, for I supposed that all 
the inmates of the workhouse were poured out for want 
of food, and were sent to prey upon the inhabitants. In 
this dreadful flock there was not one redeeming quality 
—not one countenance that smiled, nor one voice that 
uttered a sally of Irish wit—all was piteous entreaty, 
without deceit; for no proof was needed of sincerity, but 
the look they gave us. I was urged to my seat through 
the crowd, and no sight like that had ever met my eyes as 
when that coach whirled from that haggard assemblage. 

sour-snops. 

It is well known that among the many devices for 
the cure of Ireland’s famine, the soup-shops and “ stir¬ 
about’’ establishments, ranked among the foremost, and 
the most effectual for some time. These were got up in 
many places at a great expense, so much so, that had 
they expected to have fed the nation on beef-bones and 
yellow Indian for centuries to come, they could not have 
been more durably made and fixed. There was quite a 
competition to excel in some places, to make not only 
durable boilers, but something that looked a little tasty, 
and he that “ got up” the best was quite a hero. But the 
soup-shop of soup-shops, and the boiler of boilers , the one 
that sung the requiem to all that had gone before, was 
the immortalised one of Soyer, the French soup-maker 
and savoury inventor for the “ West End” of London. It 
would seem that the Government, on whose shoulders 
hung this mighty “ potatoe-famine,” had exhausted all 
its resources of invention “to stay the plague” but the 
one last mentioned, and, driven to their “wits end,” 
they happily hit upon this panacea. 


OF IRELAND. 


363 


Every minutiae cannot be given, either of the “getting 
up,” or the “recipe,” itself; but the “sum and sub¬ 
stance’’ was simply this, that a French cook from 
London was sent to Dublin with a recipe of his own 
concocting, made out of “ drippings,” whether of “ shin¬ 
bones" or " ox-tails” was not specified ; but this “drip¬ 
ping” was to be so savoury, and withal so nourishing, 
that with a trilling sum, Paddy could he fed, and/«f too 
so that he could dig drains, cut turf, and spade gardens, 
on an advanced strength, which fiung both the potatoe 
and “yellow Indian” entirelv in the “ back-ground.” 
The work commenced : a new and splendid soup-shop in 
French and West End fashion soon gladdened the eves 
of the expecting Irish. “By dad,” exclaimed one as he 
passed it, “and there’s the cratur that’ll du the heart 
good ; not a ha’porth of the blackguards will be fightin’ 
for the ‘yaller Indian when that’s in the stomach.” 

So great was this work, that the city was moved when 
the sound went forth that the boiler was ready, and the 
soup actually “under way.” A great and general in¬ 
vitation was given to lords and nobles, with wives, sons 
and daughters to be there, and test this never-equalled 
sustainer of life and zest of palate—Carriages, horsemen, 
and footmen, lords in velvet and broadcloth, ladies in 
poplins, satins, fiounces and feathers, bedizened the 
train. Xor icas this all: when anything great or good 
is atloat, the patriotism of Paddy, in high life and low. 
is aroused, and he waits not for cloak, shoe, or hat—if 
cloak, shoe and hat be lacking—but is readv on the 
spot. And here every beggar, from Liberty, to Cook 
Street, from way-side, hedge and ditch, whose strength 
was adequate, swelled this living, moving panorama. 
Wherever a feather waved in the breeze, there a rag 
fluttered in thrilling harmony. The procession entered 
the hall, where soup-ladles, plates and spoons, were in 
bright array. Lords and dukes, duchesses, baronesses, 
and “ladies of honour.” walked around this fresh-steam¬ 
ing beverage, each taking a sip and pronouncing it the 
finest and best. The hungry ones heard the verdict, and 
though some doubting ones might scoff, yet the multitude 


366 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


went away declaring they believed that the “ blessed 
soup would put the life in ’em.” 

The celebrated patentee received his sovereigns, re¬ 
turned to his sauce pots and dripping-pans in the metro¬ 
polis of John Bull. The recipe was made over to safe 
hands, the fire extinguished under the boiler, the soup- 
shop closed, and poor Paddy waited long, and in vain, 
for the expected draught; nor did he awake from his 
hopeful anticipations till the streets of Dublin resounded, 
by night and by day, Avith 

“ Sup it up, sup it up, ’twill cure you of the gout,” &c. 

The poetry in refinement of style, in orthography or 
punctuation, did not equal Cowper’s “ John Gilpin, 5 ' 
but in aptness of invention, and clearness of description, 
it was not a whit behind ; and when the echo was begin¬ 
ning to swell on the breeze, 

“ Up flew the windows all/ 7 * 

of manv a dwelling, Avhose inmates would shrink from 
the gaze of the vulgar, and blush to be found reading by 
daylight, wit so coarsely expressed. The soup recipe was- 
not entirely a thing of nought; it brought to the ballad- 
maker and ballad-singers ready cash for many a week ; 
and the host of disappointed hungry ones who folloAved 
m the train, found in the poetic excitement a momen¬ 
tary pause of pain, which said, 

“ That the cheek may he tinged with a warm sunny smile, 
Though the cold heart to ruin runs darkly the while.” 

I soon left for Cork. A visit to the house of Mr. Murry,. 

•/ * 

who, in union with his felloAV-labourer, Jordan, had 
established a church of the Independent order, under the 
auspices of the Irish Evangelical Society. 

Their labours are blessed; the Roman catholics appear 
to feel that in that little organization good is doing, and 
often Avhen mention was made of it the answer ivould 
he, “ they are a blessed people.” Many expressed a 
desire that they might build a chapel, and some few had 
actually contributed a little for the purpose. These men 
had preached Christ, and treated the people kindly, and 


OF IRELAND. 


367 


they met with no serious opposition. They had been 
impartial in their distributions through the famine, and 
had never attempted to proselyte either by a pound of 
Indian meal, or “ten ounces” of black bread. 

A rainy morning took me from Castlebar, and in a 
few hours I reached Tume, and first visited the work- 
house. 1800 w r ere here doing the same thing —nothing ; 
but one improvement, which is worth naming, distin¬ 
guished this house. All the cast off bed-clothes and 
ticking were converted into garments for the poor, and 
given them when they left the house. Their rags which 
they wore in, were all flung aside, and they went decently 
out. Next I visited the convent, and here found half 
a dozen nuns hiding from the world, and yet completely 
overwhelmed with it. They had a company of 400 
children, most of them who were starving in the begin¬ 
ning of famine, and have instructed and fed them daily. 
This was the first school I had visited during the famine, 
where the children retained that ruddiness of look and 
buoyancy of manner, so prevalent in the Irish peasan¬ 
try. “ We have tested,” said a nun, “ the strength of 
the Indian meal. These children, through last winter, 
were fed but once a-day on stirabout and treacle, and 
had as much as they would take ; they were from among 
the most feeble, but soon became strong and active as you 
now see.” They assembled for dinner, and as had been 
their custom, they clasped their hands and silently stood, 
while one repeated these w r ords : “We thank thee, 0 God, 
for giving us benefactors, and pray that they may be 
blessed with long life and a happy death.” “ The good 
Quakers,” said a nun, “ have kept them alive ; and the 
clothes you see on them are sent through that channel, 
all but the caps, which we provide.” These children 
were taken from filth and poverty, never knowing the 
use of the needle, or value of a stocking, and now could 
produce the finest specimens of knitting, both orna¬ 
mental and useful. And looking upon these happy faces 
one might feel that Ireland is not wholly lost. My 
next visit was in the workhouse at the old town of 
Galway. The distress here had been dreadful, and most of 


368 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


them seemed waiting in silent despair for the last finish¬ 
ing stroke of their misery. One cleanly clad fisherman 
of whom I made enquiries, invited me to visit the fisher¬ 
men’s cottages, which before the famine were kept tidy, 
and had the “ comfortable bit ” at all times ; “ now, the 
fisheries are lost, we are too poor to keep up the tackle, 
and are all starving.” I followed him to a row of neat 
cottages, where the discouraged housekeepers appeared 
as if they had swept their cottage floors, put on the last 
piece of turf, and had actually sat down to die. “ Here 
we are,” said one, (as she rose from her stool to salute us,) 
“ sitting in these naked walls, without a mouthful of 
bread, and don’t know what the good God will do for us.” 
This fisherman then shewed me into the monks’ school¬ 
rooms, who were teaching and feeding a number of boys, 
and showed me some new fishing nets which the kind 
Quakers had sent, and he hoped, if they did not all die, 
that the “ net might sairve ’em.” 

The workhouse here was on the best plan of any I 
had seen ; the master and matron had been indefatigable 
in placing every thing in its true position, and appeared 
to feel that their station was a responsible one , and that 
the poor were a sacred trust, belonging still to the order 
of human beings. The food was abundant and good, 
and the parents and children allowed to see and con¬ 
verse together oftener than in other like establishments; 
and now, in March 1850, the same report is current, 
that good order and comfort abound there, beyond any 
other. Everlasting peace rest on the heads of those 
who do not make merchandise of the poor for gain. 

From Galway, Limerick was the next stopping-place, 
and the poorhouse in that place was so crowded, the 
morning so rainy, and the keepers so busy in gathering 
the inmates to the “ stirabout,” that but little that was 
satisfactory could be obtained. 

Cork was reached in the evening, with the loss of a 
trunk by the inattention of the coachman, but in a few 
days it was restored by the honesty of a passenger. As 
the comfort of the travelling public depends so much on 
coachmen, and as passengers beside have a heavy fare to 


OF IRELAND. 


369 


pay, it would be unjust to the public, as an individual, 
not to give a second testimony to the celebrated Bianconi’s 
cars and carmen. I should have been happy to have 
found that my complaints in the first volume respecting 
this establishment were not realised as habits, but merely 
accidental, and that further acquaintance might ensure 
greater esteem; but a second trial told me that thus 
far severity had not exaggerated. I paid my passage at 
Limerick for Cork, went to Fermoy without any serious 
difficulty ; here vehicles and horses were changed, my 
trunk placed beyond my care, new passengers seated till 
the car was quite overcharged, when the carman said 
with insolence, as he saw me waiting for a seat, “ Get 
on and stand up, or else stop till to-morrow, I’ll not 
wait for ye.” My passage is paid to Cork, my trunk is 
beyond my reach, or I would wait, was the answer. “ Get 
on quick and stand there, or you’re left.” I ascended 
the seat, and holding by the luggage, rode ten miles 
standing in much peril, while the carman occasionally 
looked around, and made some waggish joke, much to 
the amusement of decently clad gentlemen, who not one 
of them offered me a seat. The reader may justly in¬ 
quire—Is this Irish politeness of which so much has 
been said in these pages 1 It is not instinctive Irish 
politeness—this is always pure and always abundant ; 
but it is the habit put on and cultivated, by such as 
having no claim to family or rank, have, mushroom-like, 
started suddenly from a manure-heap into a little higher 
business, and having no education that has in the least 
disciplined the mind, they at once assume the airs of 
imperious landlords, and keepers of “ whiskey-shops,” as 
the best means of establishing their advanced standing. 

The county of Cork is the largest county in Ireland, 
and once had four walled towns :—Cork, Youghal, 
Kinsale, and Bandon. It has an extensive sea-coast, 
and ten good harbours. It is everywhere well watered, 
and was once supplied with all kinds of game and cattle, 
wool and woollen, and linen yarn. It, like all Ireland, 
has been sifted and shaken, divided among septs and 
kings, and is now resting under the gracious shadow of 


370 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


the Queen Victoria. The population numbered in the year 
1841 about 107,682. The beautiful River Lee, where 
vessels from the Cove of Cork enter, flows through the 
city, giving from the hill top and side to the neat trel- 
lised cottages that hang there a cheerful aspect of life 
and commerce which few towns can claim. A sail from 
Cove Harbour up the Lee, to the city, cannot be surpassed 
in beauty, on a pleasant evening. The Venetian boatman 
might here And material enough to add a new stanza to 
his Gondolier song; and if angels retain any wish for 
the sin-scathed scenery of earth, they might strike here 
their golden harps, and sing anew the sweet song 

“ Peace on earth, and good will to men.” 

The whole distance is so variedly enchanting that the 
overcharged eye, as it drops its lingering curtain upon 
one fairy spot, pauses, in doubt whether its next opening 
can greet beauties like the last. Cove, now a town, 
containing a population of about 7000, is built upon 
the sloping side of a hill, in Terraces; and at the foot 
of the hill is a line of houses called the Beach and 
Crescent. 

This beautiful town, now named Queenstown, in 
honour of the landing of Victoria, in the summer of 
1S49, when Her Majesty placed her foot for the first time 
on that green isle, and honoured that spot with its first 
impression, was, half a century ago, but a miserable 
fishing hamlet, the remains of which are most hide¬ 
ously and squalidly looking out, on the North side, 
called “ Old Cove.” However squalid the old houses 
may look, there are more redeeming qualities here than 
any town in Ireland. It is snugly sheltered from winds 
by the hill; and this hill is so continually washed with 
fresh showers from the buckets of heaven, that it needs 
no police regulations to keep the declivity in a condition 
for the most delicate foot and olfactory nerves to walk 
without difficulty or offence. Then the broad old river 
spreading out beneath its foot, presenting a harbour of 
six miles in length and three in breadth, dotted with 
four islands, Spike, Hawdbouline, Rocky, and Coney, 


OF IRELAND. 


371 


with two rivers, Ballinacurra and Awnbree, beside many 
pretty streamlets emptying into it. Tbe harbour is 
backed by bills of tbe greenest and richest, and orna¬ 
mented with five Martello towers, so called from a Tower 
in the Bay of Martello, in tbe Island of Corsica. As 
nearly all the present names of places in Ireland bad an 
Irish root, and this root has a signification, a knowledge 
of these, places the history in many cases in a clear and 
useful light. The village and glen of Monkston stretched 
along, with the church and old castle, with spire and 
towers overlooking the whole, first meet the view; then 
a mile further, Passage, a village extending nearly a 
mile, with a quay and bathing houses, and taken as a 
whole is interesting, as a busy thoroughfare. Blackrock 
Castle soon catches the eye, and its situation and happy 
construction can hardly 'be improved in imagination. It 
looks out upon Lake Mahon and the picturesque islands 
which dot it; and further on upon the right is Mount 
Patrick, where stands the tower dedicated to Theobald 
Mathew ; and before reaching Cork, embosomed in trees, 
is the seat of Mr. Penrose, called Woodhill, and possesses 
the undying honour of the spot where the daughter of 
Curran w r as married to Captain Henry Sturgeon. It is 
long since Moore sung in sweet strains the never-to-be- 
forgotten melody of 

“ She is far from the land where her young hero sleeps, 

And lovers are round her sighing ; 

But coldly she turns from their gaze and weeps, 

For her heart in his grave is lying. 

“ 0 ! make her a grave where the sunbeams rest, 

When they promise a glorious morrow, 

They’ll shine o'er her sleep like a smile from the W est, 

From her own lov’d island of sorrow.” 

Cork stands on a marshy spot; its name in Irish is 
Corcaig, signifying a moor or marsh, and the city owes 
its origin to St. Fin Bar, who first founded a cathedral, 
in the seventh century, near the south branch of the Lee, 
and from this beginning Corcaig-more, or the Great CorK, 
arose; and though this city has passed through changes 
and great sufferings, yet it has for a long time maintained 


372 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


a respectable, if not high standing, for intelligence. 
Schools are numerous, and some of them of a high order, 
and the labouring classes are mostly well educated in a 
plain way. The Roman catholics give 0,000 children 
gratuitous instruction in the various schools, and the 
protestants have done much, their schools being liberally 
endowed, and probably it would not be exaggeration to 
say, that in no city in the kingdom of like population 
would more people among the poorer classes be found who 
could read, than in Cork. The convents, too, have done 
nobly in this respect, educating a multitude of children 
of the poor without any compensation. J. Windell has 
justly said, that “ the great majority of the working 
classes are all literate, and generally acquainted with the 
elements of knowledge ; the middle classes, in intelli¬ 
gence, and in the acquisition of solid as well as graceful 
information, are entitled to a very distinguished place .” 
The Royal Cork Institution has a library of from five to 
six thousand volumes, the Cork Library has nine thou¬ 
sand volumes, and the Cork Mechanics’ Institute has a 
small one, beside private libraries of considerable note. 
It may be doubtful whether it can be said that, as in the 
one in Belfast, that there are no works of fiction. The 
summer of 1848 found the city rallying a little from the 
fearful effects of the famine ■ for in a county so large, 
embracing so much sea-coast, marshy ground, <fcc., there 
must be found many poor in the best times in Ireland. 
The Friends’ Society, connected with the Dublin Central 
Committee, acted with untiring efficiency ; and Theobald 
Mathew laboured for months in giving out American 
donations which were entrusted to him. The nuns, too, 
had children to a great amount, whom they daily fed. 
The British Association, likewise, were there, but death 
fearfully went on, Let the walls of that workhouse tell 
the story of the hundreds carried out upon “ sliding 
coffins,” and buried in pits. Let the cemetery of Theobald 
Mathew shew its ten thousand, which he buried there in 
huge graves, opening a yawning gulf, and throwing in 
lime, then adding coffinless bodies daily, till the pit was 
filled ; then opening another, till ten thousand were 


OF IRELAND. 


373 


numbered ! The rain had washed the loose dirt away in 
some spots, and parts of the bodies were exposed in a few 
places. A painful sight! 

The Cork Committee acted most efficiently, and the 
name of Abraham Beale has left there a sweet and lasting 
remembrance. Beside the city of Cork, the rural dis¬ 
tricts were in the greatest distress, and this benevolent 
indefatigable labourer turned his energies unceasingly 
to those districts, faithfully discharging his duty, till his 
health failed ; and his biographer states, that “ His last 
act of public duty was the attendance of the Belief Com¬ 
mittee, in which he had so assiduously laboured.” Typhus 
fever took him in a few davs to the “ mansion’’ which, 
doubtless, was prepared for him ; for though he said, “ I 
have been but an unprofitable servant,” yet the living 
testify that his profiting appeared unto all. He died in 
August, 1847, while the scourge was still raging ; and in 
1848 his name was fresh on the lips of many in that 
city, who, with his two bereaved sisters, say, they have 
lost in him a friend and a father. “ The memory of the 
just is truly blessed.” 

Though in the summer of 1848 many were suffering, 
yet the workhouse was not filled with the dying as before, 
and the “sliding coffin” never met my eye. The indefatig¬ 
able nuns still were overwhelmed with children, many of 
whom were placed there by Father Mathew, and in one 
contiguous to his chapel were about thirteen hundred, 
which were fed when food could be obtained. One of the 
most affecting items of the famine, if item it may be 
called, is the multitude of orphans left in that afflicted 
country, and the saying was becoming quite a common 
one, when a hungry child was asked where he lived, or 
where his father and mother were, to answer, “ They died, 
sir, (or ma’am) in the stirabout times.” This alluded 
to the year 1847 particularly, when the “stirabout” was 
most in vogue. The “black bread times” now have an 
imperishable name in the west of Ireland, and “ Soyer’s 
soup” will not die in the memory of the wags of Dublin, 
till wars, pestilence, and famine shall cease to the ends 
of the earth. 


374 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


The environs of Cork had not lost any of their charms 
hy the scourge, and Blarney seemed to have put on new 
beauties ; her old castle and Blarney stone, now supported 
with two iron grasps, are still looking forth from the 
shrubbery and trees, which wildly surround it, for the 
good taste of the owner keeps the pruning knife con¬ 
fined to his enchanting gardens and walks, and allows 
nature here to frolic according to her own vagaries. The 
sycamore, oak, arbutus, elm, ash, holly, copper-beech, 
and ivy, were mingling and commingling, without any 
aristocratic airs of family descent or caste. 

A stranger here would wonder what famine could have 
to do in these pleasant grounds ; and while rambling 
among its moss-covered stones, wild flowers, and creep¬ 
ing ivy, its shady seats, alcoves, and grottos, we felt 
that an Italian gardener could scarcely make a spot 
more enchanting, even though an Italian sky should 
mingle its blandness. 

The company too, in such places, has much to do in 
heightening or diminishing the pleasure, and even beauty 
of such scenes. Mine was a happy lot this day. The 
young Beales, who were the party, with a London 
acquaintance, had a natural and cultivated relish for 
treats like these, and while we were taking our pic-nic 
in that grove of delights, gladly would I have forgotten 
the sorrows of the past and avoided a dread of the future, 
but could not; for notwithstanding Blarney pleasure 
grounds, we were in woe-stricken Ireland still, and we 
knew that desponding hearts and hungry stomachs were 
not far distant. A cheerful walk home led us through 
Blarney Lane, in the suburbs of Cork, where the neat¬ 
ness of the cottages, with a flower-pot in many a win¬ 
dow, had an interest beyond what had been presented 
in any suburb of Ireland’s large towns, since the 
famine. We took welcome liberties to look occasionally 
into one, and found all invariably tidy, and what was 
still more creditable, the women were busy at work. 
This said that Cork had still a living germ within her, 
that might and would be resuscitated; for if woman’s 
hands are well employed, however unnoticed her little 


OF IRELAND. 


375 


inventions and doings may be, they at last ivork out, and 
bring forth untold comforts, which are more valuable 
because diffused insensibly where most needed. 

“The little foxes spoil the vines,” and little things 
are the foundation of all great ones, and had Ireland, as 
well as the whole world beside, looked better to this, 
better effects would have been produced. Cork may 
boast as many efficient men, and active useful women, 
probably, as any town in Ireland. It has a Father 
Mathew and a William Martin, to urge by precept and 
example the importance and benefits of sobriety and 
industry; it has a Society of Friends, whose religion 
and discipline encourage no drones, and its intelligence 
has broken down that caste which so much exists in 
many parts of the country, and rendered the people of 
all classes more accessible than in any other city in 
Ireland. Fifteen weeks’ stopping there heightened my 
admiration of the true hospitality and capabilities of 
the inhabitants; and those flowery hill-sides, and rose- 
covered gateways and windows that hung over the Lee, 
will be held ever in the sweetest remembrance. “ The 
little room,” where one week of the pleasantest was spent, 
deserves an acknowledgment which I am not able to 
give. May that cottage and its inmates long be united 
as happily and sweetly as their industry and beauty so 
richly merit. 

A short excursion to Castlemartyr, fifteen miles from 
Cork, took me through a richly cultivated country, 
where fields of wheat, barley, and oats were ripening for 
the harvest; but five fields of blasted potatoes that we 
passed, said that they had not yet recovered courage and 
strength to look out again upon the world, as in days 
gone by. 

The feelings of the people are so sensitive, that they 
are not willing to speak of the subject when the fields 
begin to droop, and when mention is made of the appear¬ 
ance of a new failure, everything favourable is brought 
to bear on the subject; and often one member of a 
family has been known to keep all knowledge from the 
others, that might have reached him. Castlemartyr was 


37G 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


once a parliamentary borough ; the castle has long been 
famous for battles and plunders, and King William’s 
forces, after the Battle of the Boyne, charged a body of 
300 Irish, who fled to the castle, were driven out, the 
fortress surrendered, with the loss of 60 men, and 16 
prisoners taken. The Irish, in 1671, got possession of 
the tow r n, but were driven out, and the castle since has 
laid in ivy-covered ruins, being used as a wine-cellar by 
Lord Shannon. It is surrounded with the loftiest trees, 
and a lawn of emerald green runs down to a lake upon 
one side of it. A thousand acres of the most richly 
cultivated land belong to this domain; a canal, three 
lakes, an extensive deer park, w r alks and rides, a flower 
garden of rare beauty, and kitchen garden of great size. 
Kear the castle stands his lordship’s house, containing a 
centre and two wings. 

The apparatus for hunting are a great curiosity. 
Forty-two pleasure-horses for this sport were stabled here, 
in apartments much better than the dwellings of the 
labouring class, and the richly tipped harnesses, with 
their bright stirrups and saddles, were still hanging, as 
mementos of former greatness, and ready for use, should 
the absentee find it for his benefit to return to his plea¬ 
sure grounds. The famine and other embarrassments 
have compelled him to suspend his hunting pleasures at 
present; his hounds were dismissed, his horses sold, and 
his carriages remain in silent waiting. 

The town had suffered like all others, in the famine, 
and the rich widow where I stopped told sad tales of 
what had passed; but so engrossed was she with the 
loss of her husband, that she could find little space for 
the woes of others in her heart. She took me upon a 
desolate sea-coast some ten miles distant, and there was 
misery ever fresh and ever young. The strange leap 
from a domain in Ireland to a hut or village of the 
poor, is nowhere so vivid in any county as here. I was 
glad to leave this spot and return to Cork ; but a few 
short excursions more must finish all A flower-show 
was a treat which always brings out all that is beau¬ 
tiful to the eye, so far as fashion is concerned. Here 


OF IRELAND. 


377 


lords and ladies arc found, and though they would not 
like a vulgar stare, yet they would not disapprove of 
a little admiration given to style and beauty. The 
show was a splendid one, and gave great credit to the 
skill of gardeners, who certainly are not inferior in taste 
in Ireland to any in the kingdom. The ladies too, 
were the ladies of Ireland—“ fair to look upon.” 

SPIKE ISLAND. 

Strangers were not permitted, in the year 1848, to 
visit the convicts on Spike Island, but fortunately being 
a few days in the family of Doctor Maurice Power, M.P., 
he was, in consequence of his standing, allowed a peep 
among them, and had the privilege of taking all who 
belonged to his family ;—his wife, daughter, and myself 
were his company. This island is rough in its appearance, 
containing 180 acres, and has been a fortified island 
from about 1791-2. Here we found convicts from every 
part of Ireland, who were deemed worthy of an exile 
from home, for the space of seven years. The number 
of these victims was about 840; some employed in 
digging out rocks and levelling rough places, some in 
making mats of cocoa-nut bark, some knitting, and some 
marching round a circle made up on the pavement, for 
exercise and punishment. A school is kept where for 
two hours in rotation all who are of suitable age, and 
cannot read and write, are taught these branches. The 
teacher remarked, when pointing to 300 pupils, “ these 
persons,” are docile, and I believe honest; their only 
crime being taking food when starving.’’ Some of these 
young men and boys had thrown a stone into a bread 
shop, some had stolen a turnip, and some a sheep; but 
every one was induced by extreme hunger to do the 
deed. But we are gravely told in Ireland that property 
must be protected, though life should be squandered. 
The teacher added, “ I cannot look on these men and 
boys as criminals.” A few others had been guilty of 
manslaughter; and one gentlemanly appearing man had 
been guilty of embezzling public money—he was over¬ 
seeing the making of mats. A dexterous pickpocket, 


378 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


not yet fifteen, was present, from Dublin, wbo bad, when 
there, fifty men under pay; and in the presence of us 
all he showed his propensity, by keeping one hand upon 
his work and the other apparently carelessly upon the 
skirt of Doctor Power’s coat near the pocket. This sad 
boy will not be cured by forced abstinence ; the keepers 
informed us that he steals for the pleasure of it—taking 
what he does not want, such as handkerchiefs and stock¬ 
ings, which he can neither wear nor dispose of. The 
lodging-rooms were large, and well ventilated ; and 
numbers sleep in the same apartment, without any 
guard. The solitary cells were very cold,—the walls 
reeking with wet; but as these are only for the incor- 
rigibles—if none behave unseemly, none need to inhabit 
them. The room where the unfortunate Mitchell was 
confined, when on his way to Bermuda, was shewn us ; 
it was larger than any other single room, and had the 
luxury of a board floor, and would, if nicely fitted up, 
make a tolerable farm kitchen. But report fell far short 
of the reality, when she said that this traitor was treated 
more like a gentleman than a felon, occupying a drawing¬ 
room, well-furnished. The bread was good, made of 
unbolted wheat meal, and the quantity quite sufficient. 
Cocoa is given every Sabbath morning, and meat for 
dinner. Much better in any way were these convicts 
than any inmates of a workhouse in Ireland. We sailed 
from Spike up the beautiful Corigaline, and its winding 
course presented us rich beauties of foliage, gentlemen’s 
seats, and rose-covered cottages. A clear sun, like that 
of my native home, shone upon this landscape; and in 
sight of the river, mid the song of birds, with children 
sporting about us, in this wooded spot we took a plea¬ 
sant “ pic nic,” which was greatly valued by me, because 
the carmen were sitting too, at a little distance, partaking 
of the same repast, when one sent a civil inquiry to 
Mrs. P. to know if the pudding had whiskey in it, as he 
was a teetotaler, and could not take it if anything of 
the kind were in it. He was assured it was pure. 

The whole to me was quite American, Dr. P. having 
graduated in a college there, his wife being a native, and 


OF IRELAND. 


370 


his daughter horn there, and had he not been an M.P. 
we might have talked republican things. Why is this 
partiality for country and home so deeply fixed in the 
human heart ? Is it not selfish, and does it not tend to 
contract and even sour the mind against what often is 
more valuable than home produces. 

TIIE MATHEW TOWER. 

Among the many interesting subjects of people and 
things in the city of Cork, may be included as pre-emi¬ 
nent this beautiful tower, standing upon Mount Patrick, 
overlooking the pleasant waters of the Lee. It is three 
miles from Cork, on an elevation of 800 feet, and was 
erected by William O’Connor, entirely at his own expense. 
Theobald Mathew visited London in the year 1843, and 
his generous reception suggested the idea to O’Connor, 
who was present, to erect a monument in commemoration 
of the event, and as an honourable memento to future 
generations of the indefatigable labours of the great 
Apostle of Temperance. The history of this spot gives 
to the visitor a double interest, especially so, when he is 
told that the founder was a tailor, who, through his shears* 
was enabled to give 3000 guineas for the tower alone. 

A few years since this noiv blooming garden of trees* 
shrubs, and flowers, was a wilderness of woods, and the 
soil the most unpromising. O’Connor purchased twenty 
acres, cut down the trees, leaving a few for ornament* 
dug up the roots, and made an entirely new soil, by 
material taken from the mud and gravel of the Lee, at 
Cork, and planted this new-made land with potatoes, 
giving employment to a great number of men; and 
when the harvest was gathered he made the whole of it 
as an offering of the first fruits to the poor. The Sisters 
of Mercy shared largely in this donation, as almoners 
of the gift. He then built a neat cottage, which he in¬ 
habited, with a sister, who has since deceased. A fine 
gravelly walk conducts the visitor from the gate leading 
to the cottage through a rich thicket of laurel, arbutus, 
and firs, opening upon a tasteful flower-ground, de¬ 
scending from the cottage, which is ascended by fourteen 


380 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


stone-steps, with iron-railings. On the right and left 
from the hill two rooms are fitted up in good modern 
taste, for the reception of visitors. In the centre of each 
stands a table, one containing the periodicals of the day, 
the other only a large ancient bible. The w r alls are 
adorned with a variety of pictures, some of which are 
the best specimens of drawing. Two, which are dedi¬ 
cated to the Queen and Prince Albert, and executed 
entirely with a pen, by McDonnell of Cork, are almost 
without a parallel. They contain an address by the 
Mayor, Aldermen, and Council of the city of Cork, on 
the birth of the Prince of Wales, in 1841. They are 
both executed in a manner that entitle them to a standing 
among the highest ornamental works. A portrait of 
O’Connor hangs in the same room, with one of Edim 
Eorest, and a few others, of the best model. The left- 
hand room represents the Queen, with an infant on her 
lap, and another child standing by her side; another 
of the Virgin and child of peculiar beauty. A frame- 
w'ork containing the baptismal cake of one of the Queen’s 
children, and a phial of caudle. The frame is lined 
on the back with a piece of satin, embroidered with the 
crown of the King of Prussia, and is a piece from the 
vest he wore ; the sides are of embroidered satin, like that 
worn by the Queen, with her crown w r rought upon it, and 
w r hich is worn on the baptismal occasions of her children. 
A fourth is Louis Phillippe receiving the visit of Victoria, 
in France, beside two other pictures not named. In the 
hall hangs the picture of the “testimonial” or tower, 
and opposite is the monument of Scott. 

In a little opening at the back of the hall, is a glass 
case, containing a choice collection of shells, and on 
each side from this are tw 7 o nicely-furnished bedrooms ; 
these rooms with a kitchen include all the dwelling; 
part, lwo wings, with artificial windows, are attached 
to the cottage; the glass, frame and blind, are such a 
finished specimen of the reality, that one must touch 
them to be convinced of their mockery. Two winding 
paths from the cottage lead up the ascent to the monu¬ 
ment. A circular stone-wall containing a small fountain 


OF IRELAND. 


381 


is the first object, in the centre of this is a curiously- 
wrought pedestal, surmounted by a large basin, in which 
is seated a boy, whose business is to spirt water from his 
mouth through a small tube, when any one is so kind as 
to open a pipe underground, by a key, which pipe com¬ 
municates with one from the top of the tower, which 
conveys the water from a cistern fixed near the top; 
near this fountain stands a boy, grasping in his hands a 
snake, which is wound about one leg ; but the boy holds 
him fast in defiance : this is the serpent alcohol. On 
the right of the boy stands an angel to strengthen him. 
Theobald Mathew is standing back, and over this group, 
in a figure larger than life, with his right-hand pointing 
to the fountain, while his left arm rests upon a pedestal. 
Above all this stands the testimonial, the door facing 
the west. Two dogs are resting upon a pedestal at the 
entrance; both are portraits of one dog, who saved the 
lives of eight men w r ho fell into the Thames. He was 
elected a member of the Humane Society of London, and 
now wears a gold collar. Next the door stand two war¬ 
riors, one a Boman, the other a British officer, represent¬ 
ing the two religions. 

Peeping over the wall is the head of a grey horse, and 
around the tower are various statues; the first is of 
Fidelity, represented by a female with a dog looking up 
to her face ; Faith with a cross ; Hope with an anchor ; 
Charity with a child in her arms; and Plenty with a 
bunch of wheat in her hand. 

The tower is circular, though all in one massive pillar, 
yet it has the appearance of two, one smaller and taller, 
"with the union jack waving from the top. There are 
two apartments in this tower, the window cases and 
frames are of fluted oak, surmounted by carved heads, 
stucco-work is over these, and continued along the 
ceiling. Enclosed in a glass-shade, on a rosewood 
pedestal is a model bust of the apostle Matthew, and 
over this, one of the Bight Bev. Dr. Murphy, Bishop of 
the Catholic church. A massive chimney-piece has 
upon it a basso-relievo figure of Father Mathew, holding 
in one hand Britannia, in the other Erin, the emblems 
of both countries surrounding them. A large chandelier 


382 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


is suspended from the ceiling, and the upper portions of 
the windows are stained glass. This circular room is 
16 feet in diameter. 

This description is minutely given because there are 
pleasant and painful reminiscences of my visit to that spot. 
Theobald Mathew was there , he is now in the land of my 
fathers; friends were there that will meet me no more; 
and the generous heart was there who fitted this enchant¬ 
ing elysium for the man he so much honoured, and for 
the happy resort of friends who might honour him too. 
The cottage, the garden, and testimonial are there. The 
hyacinth, the rose, the holly, and fir, are still blooming in 
fragrance and verdure ; but alas ! the heart that de¬ 
signed and the hand that completed them are cold in the 
dust. That relentless scourge the cholera, which has spared 
neither age nor station, has laid him low ; and who will 
trim afresh that hill-side, and brighten the neat cottage 
and pretty summer-house, for the happy eye and sweet 
resting spot of the visitor and stranger? Who will 
keep open the welcome gate that introduces to shrubbery 
walks of arbutus and flower-beds; and to the chaste 
testimonial, which has been and must be the admiration 
of every eye that has rested upon it? Will it fall into 
hands that will add fresh garlands to honour the memory 
of him who erected it ? Who will still say to every 
lover of temperance and beauty, ‘*Come in freely and 
banquet on these delights of nature and of art ? ” Or 
will contracted minds and penurious hearts close its 
gates to all but aristocratic passports and shilling fees? 
Let sacred respect for the honour of the generous de¬ 
parted forbid it; and let love for the benevolent apostle 
to whom it was dedicated forbid it. 

While penning these pages, intelligence of the death 
of O’Connor was forwarded me by the pen of one who 
first introduced me to that spot, and this circumstance 
prompts to the insertion of the following documents, as a 
tribute of respect due to the deceased, and which to me 
are doubly valued, because this tribute did not wait till 
he to whom it was owing should be no more. What a 
comment on good sense and justice, what a mockery of 
the dead, to write eulogiums and build costly monuments 


OF IRELAND. 


383 


to him who, while living, was carelessly neglected, or 
wilfully despised. O’Connors history, as was related by 
a friend, was simply this: He was the son of a poor 
widow, belonging to a rural district, and was early sent 
to Cork, where he acquired the trade of a tailor, and by 
persevering industry, good conduct, and economy, he 
became first in the profession of a merchant tailor, and 
through his shears he amassed a handsome fortune, before 
reaching the meridian of life. With this fortune, let 
the Mathew Testimonial tell part of the honourable use 
he made of his money. He had no family, but his attach¬ 
ment to friends was deeply manifest in the love he bore 
towards the sister, who lived with him in the cottage on 
Mount Patrick. He left it when she was buried, and 
said he could never tarry in it another night, and ob¬ 
served that it was purely out of respect to strangers that 
he ever visited it. 

The origin of the letters which follow was simply this : 
When going over the grounds, through the cottage, and 
through the tower, but one item seemed to be wanting to 
make the whole complete, that ivas, a few choice literary 
books to grace the centre table of that otherwise well- 
fitted drawing-room. It was proposed to a few friends, 
and was done without any intention of display, or wish to 
have it thus memorialized. A letter was sent me the fol¬ 
lowing day, and an answer returned the next. They both 
unexpectedly appeared in print, in the Cork Examiner , a 
few days after, where they doubtless would have slept for 
ever, had not the death of O’Connor revived so painfully 
the visit to that beautiful spot. 

If ever vanity, ambition, or pride, have stimulated me 
to seek notice or applause from men, these propensities 
have been so subdued, that when contempt has been added 
to privation , I have felt an inward gratitude, that since 
in Ireland so few comparatively hindered my labours by 
false attentions and fulsome flatteries, which travellers 
too much seek in foreign lands ; and never should any 
of the neglects or rudeness which have been received been 
recorded, were it not that the character of the people was 
the object to find out and show, rather than to draw pity 
or favour to myself:— 


384 


LIGHTS AND SHADES. 


THE MATHEW TOWER—MRS. NICHOLSON. 

Last week, Mrs. Nicholson, now well known by her tour 
on foot through Ireland, and the very interesting book which 
she has written descriptive of her wanderings, paid a visit to 
Mountpatrick. She was accompanied by some friends. She 
was met by the Very Bev. Mr. Mathew, Mr. O’Connor, the 
hospitable proprietor, and some other gentlemen. After 
visiting the Tower, which is now superbly finished, and pro¬ 
mises to stand, in firmness and durability, for the next five 
hundred years, and perambulating the grounds which are 
laid out in a highly ornamental style, the parties partook of 
lunch, which consisted principally of fruits and coffee. Mrs. 
Nicholson, and the friend who accompanied her, are, besides 
being strict total abstainers, also vegetarians, disciples of a 
strict dietetic school, in which no animal food is permitted. 
The object of her visit was then announced ; it was to present 
to Mr. O’Connor, a small but beautiful select library, in tes¬ 
timony of her ardent respect for the cause and the Apostle of 
Temperance, and in kindly appreciation of the services and 
worth of Mr. O’Connor, who not only built a testimonial un¬ 
exampled in the history of such memorials erected by private 
individuals, but with a hospitality that cannot be over-esti¬ 
mated, throw's open his grounds daily to the public. Mrs. 
Nicholson presented the following short address :— 

These volumes are presented by a few friends of tempe¬ 
rance, in grateful acknowledgment of his generosity in 
throwing open his tasteful and beautiful place to the public, 
and for the purpose of affording a profitable recreation to its 
numerous visitors ; with a desire that the lovely spot may be 
ever sacred to that glorious cause, to w’hose most successful 
and untiring advocate it has been dedicated, and to the 
advancement of universal philanthropy. 

Cork, August 28th, 184S. 

The reply was as follows :— 

Madam, — I receive the books with pride and pleasure. 
The subject of each volume, and the names of the authors 
remarkable in our literature for their genius or scientific 
knowledge, are the best tests of your own pure taste and 
judgment. 

Ten years have elapsed since I found this spot a 'wilderness 
—four since a monument, I hope an enduring one, has been 
erected, to perpetuate, in a small degree, the true greatness 
and glory of the Christian benefactor of Ireland. As that 
monument belongs to him and the public, and as those 
grounds, which you and others have been pleased to eulogise, 


OF IRELAND. 


385 


are but the abiding place of the Tower of Temperance, so 
my gates have never been closed, and never shall be, against 
visitors, whether they be residents of our own favoured but 
unfortunate land, or citizens of Europe, or of your own great 
country. 

It is a singular spectacle to witness—a lady gently nurtured 
and brought up, giving up, for a time, home and country and 
kindred—visiting a land stricken with famine—traversing on 
foot that land from boundary to boundary—making her way 
over solitary mountains and treading through remote glens, 
where scarcely the steps of civilization have reached, sharing 
the scanty potato ot the poor but hospitable people, and lying 
down after a day of toil, in the miserable but secure cabin of 
a Kerry or Connaught peasant. All this is unusual. But 
above it shines, with a stea iy light, your sympathy, your 
benevolence, your gentleness of heart, and your warm appre¬ 
ciation of the virtues, rude but sincere, of a people whose 
condition it is necessary to improve, in order to make them 
contented and happy. 

The first step to raise them socially, to create in them self- 
respect, and elevate their shrewdness into the wisdom of 
morality, has been taken by the jian whom you revered so 
much, and to whom and not to me, you have this day paid a 
grateful and graceful tribute. May he live for ever in the 
memories of his country. 

You are about to depart for your own great country, 
because you could not witness again the desolation of another 
famine. But you will carry back from Ireland the heart¬ 
felt sense of her people for past kindness, to your Christian, 
countrymen. To them, to the generous people of England, and 
to the Society of Friends in England, Ireland and America, 
we are indebted, but utterly unable to discharge the debt. 

Again, Madam, expressing my deep sense ot your kindness 
and personal worth, and wishing you many happy years in 
your beloved America, 

I beg to subscribe myself your grateful servant, 

William O’Coninoil. 

Mount Patrick , August 31st, 1848. 


TO WILLIAM O’CONNOR. 

Sir, —The unmerited compliment you publicly bestowed 
on a stranger, in the last week’s Examiner , deserves a public 
acknowledgment, and the more cheerfully given, because it 
affords an opportunity of saying, that not to me alone is the 
honour due of the small bestowment of books upon your table. 
It says, “ there are hearts in Cork that do appreciate the 
Mathew Testimonial, as well as the noble generosity of the 

u •> 

s 



386 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


man who designed it, and though small the offering, it may 
be the prelude to more liberal demonstrations of a people’s 
gratitude. ’’ 

These few volumes, it is hoped, are but the alphabet to a 
well chosen library that shall one day grace a room in the 
Tower, affording the citizen and the stranger a profitable, as 
well as a pleasant recreation. 

And now, Sir, allow me to say, that in a four years’ tom* 
through this beautiful isle, from the Donegal sea to Cape 
Clear—from the mountains of Wicklow to the Killery Peaks, 
I have never seen from the top of mansion or castle a flag so 
gracefully waving—a flag on which is inscribed so much love 
of country—so much just appreciation of worth—and so much 
that deserves the appellation of “Well done,” as that which 
is flying in the breeze from the tower of Mount Patrick, aud 
should my eyes ever again look out upon the proud mountains 
and waters of my own native land, when memory shall revert 
to the summer of 1848, the brightest, the happiest associa¬ 
tions will be—the hours passed in the cottage and tower, 
the garden and walks, dedicated to the man, who lives for 
humanity. And though I return to my people with a sorrow¬ 
ing heart, that the tear is still on the long wasted cheek of 
Erin, yet this shall be my joy, that there live among her 
country-loving sons, hearts that can feel and hands that can 
act, when worth and virtue make the demand, and to the 
proud monument of Mount Patrick will I point as a witness, 
to all who may sail up the green banks of the sweet-flowing 
Lee. 

When the hand of Theobald Mathew shall cease to rest on 
the head of the pledge-taking postulant, and when he shall 
have been gathered to the dust of his fathers—when the 
generous heart that devised the lasting memorial shall have 
stopped its pulsation for ever—on every health-blowing breeze 
that fans the flag of Mount Patrick, shall be whispered— 
“ Peace to the Apostle of Temperance, who said to the wine- 
maddened brain of the maniac, Peace be still, who wiped the 
tear from the face of heart-stricken woman, and who ‘ lifted 
up him that was ready to fall.’” 

And Avhen from heaven’s high battlement his gentle spirit 
shall look down on this Tower, future generations shall rise 
in succession and call him “ blessed.” 

And let their long sounding echo reverberate over moun¬ 
tain and glen, “ honour and gratitude to William O’Connok.” 

Asenath Nicholson. 

Ireland <l I lore thee still.” 


September 4th, 1848. 


OF IRELAND. 


387 


CHAPTER XXI. 

“ Oh! could we from death hut recover.” 

THE GRAVE OF CHARLES WOLFE. 

It was in the cottage of Dr. Power that unexpected!/ 
the sweet strains of the “ Soldier’s Grave” was struck by 
Mrs. P., and awakened again those sensations which were 
stirred, when in the city of Xew York, a few days before 
sailing for Ireland, I heard them for the first time; and 
here w r as told that the author was sleeping in a humble 
burying-ground but two miles from the spot. 

In two days Mrs. P. accompanied me to the strangers' 
churchyard adjoining an old crumbling ivy-covered ruin 
of a church, where sleep together in a rank grass-grown 
spot, the sailor and the soldier who dies from home, in 
this harbour, and where seldom a foot tramples on the 
wild weed that grows tall in the uneven enclosure where 
they sleep. Here and there a coarse monument tells 
that Captain M., or Lieutenant G. died in this harbour, 

Anno Domini-, but Charles Wolfe was not among 

them, his was a bed detached, and confined within the 
wall of one corner of the church, with a humble flat stone 
over his breast. The roof of the church is gone, and 
the entrance to his grave, when the sexton is not there 
to unlock it, is over the wall by climbing a ladder. A 
look through the key-hole showed that luxuriant weeds 
and stones from the crumbling wall had well-nigh con¬ 
cealed the epitaph, which told his age and death. His 
short story was easily rehearsed; for like all true merit, 
he was unostentatious, and asked not that the world 
should honour him. His birth-place was Dublin, in 
1791, a descendant of the military hero Wolfe, who was 
slain at Quebec. He was sent to Bath, in England, in 
1801, to school, where his mother removed at the death 
of his father, then to Dr. Evans’s, then to Winchester, 
where his amiable disposition made him greatly beloved, 
and his classical attainments gained him great distinction 
without flattering his vanity. He never in one instance 

9 2 



388 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


received a reprimand from a teacher, and his sister adds, 
that to her recollection he never acted contrary to his 
mother’s wishes during his life. He cheerfully gave up 
the idea of a military profession, which he had imbibed, 
because he found it was unpleasant to his mother. In 
1808 the family returned to Ireland, and in 1809 he 
entered Dublin College. He soon distinguished himself 
as a poet; his Jugurtha Incoraratus was written in the 
first year of college, the year when his mother died, an 
event which left a lasting impression in his heart. He 
soon after won a prize and became a college tutor, ob¬ 
tained a scholarship, and his talents for prose and verse, 
as well as oratory, soon manifested themselves. 

The poem which gave him such deserved celebrity w r as 
published without his knowledge, and it originated in 
his mind by reading a paragraph, as follows. Sir John 
Moore had often said, that if he was killed in battle, he 
wished to be buried where he fell. 

“ The body was removed at midnight to the citadel of 
Corunna. A grave was dug for him on the rampart 
there, by a party of the 9th Regiment, the aide-de-camps 
attending by turns. No coffin could be procured, and 
the officers of his staff wrapped the body, dressed as it 
was, in a military cloak and blankets. The interment was 
hastened, for about eight in the morning some firing was 
heard, and the officers feared if a serious attack were 
made they should be ordered away, and not suffered to 
pay him the last duty. The officers of his army bore 
him to the grave—the funeral service was read by the 
chaplain, and the corpse was covered with earth.” 

Thus they buried him at dead of night, and— 

“ He lav like a warrior taking his rest, 

With his martial cloak about him.” 

His biographer says, had he written no other poetry, 
this poem would have entitled him to the name of poet 
of poets. He had one peculiarity : in reading, he ana¬ 
lysed the subject to its origin, and there tarried so long, 
that he seldom perused it to the end—he digested 
thoroughly what he did read, but seldom read a book 
through. He was an enthusiastic admirer of the scenery 


OF IRELAND. 


389 


of his own country. Lough Bray, Wicklow, and the 
Dargle, have been graphically pourtrayed by his pen. 

He became pious, but humbly laid his attainments at 
the foot of the cross, and in November, 1817, he took 
an obscure country curacy in the North, where his inde¬ 
fatigable labours and affectionate heart won him the 
love of all his flock, especially the poor, but who could 
not appreciate his talents, nor “ enter into the deep 
feelings of his soul.” 

Here he laboured, and here he loved to labour; and 
would have died among the simple flock he loved for 
Christ’s sake; but his friends removed him to the sea¬ 
side at Cove. His sermons were but precepts of which 
he was a living example. His sickness and closing 
scene were replete with all that is lovely in the Christian 
character. To his relatives, who stood round him, he 
said, “The peace of God overshadow them, dwell in 
them, and reign over them and to a relative who hung 
over him, he said, “ Close this eye, the other is closed 
already—and now farewell.” 

Thus this poet and Christian died, and thus is he 
buried, in that lonely deserted place, among the dead of 
almost every clime, who have been huddled and housed 
here, apart from country and kindred, and where few 
but strangers’ feet ever tread the way to their isolated 
resting-place. 

There was something to me quite forbidding in the 
associations that hung around the grave of Charles 
Wolfe, in that deserted corner :— 

“ Oh, breathe not his name, let him sleep in the shade, 

Where cold and unhonoured his relics are laid ; 

Sad, silent, and dark be the tears that we shed, 

As the night dew that falls on the grass o’er his head. 1 ’ 

The summer of 1848 was pleasant and unusually 
sunny, and the hopes of the poor peasant revived as he 
saw the potatoe looking up again, in freshness and 
strength ; but alas ! a few days laid all his prospects in 
the dust. 

A brother of Theobald Mathew had planted a field 


390 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


of twenty-seven acres, in almost certain faith that they 
would not be blasted; for weeks they flourished, and 
promised to yield an abundant crop. The poor people 
in the neighbourhood were blessing the good God for 
the beautiful patch of the “kind gintleman,” and seemed 
as happy as though they were ripening for their own 
use. They have been known to go and look into the 
field, and take off their hats, and in humble adoration 
bless the name of God, for his great mercy in sending 
them the potatoe again. This was their usual practice 
when they saw a field looking vigorous. But in one 
night the spoiler came—this beautiful field in the morn¬ 
ing had, in isolated spots, the withering touch of the 
fatal disease. In a few days the rich extensive crop 
would not pay the labourer for his toil in gathering 
it. All was over, and in silent despondency each one 
submitted to the stroke. The “ still small voice” seemed 
to say “Be still, and know that I am God. 5 ' It was 
something for which man could not reprove bis brother; 
and he dared not reproach his God. “ And what,” said 
an old woman, sitting by her vegetable stall, “ would 
become of us miserable bodies, if God Almighty had 
sent the blast on us, and left the potatoe ?” 

This was in the autumn of 1845, when but a partial 
failure took place—the blast had not then fell on man ; 
but it did fall, and sweep them down as grass before the 
mowers scythe, yet not one of the victims, through long 
months of starvation, was heard to murmur against God. 
They thanked his holy name, both when they saw the 
potatoe growing in luxuriance and when they saw it 
dried, as by a scorching heat. It was one of the most 
touching striking features of the famine, to see a family 
looking into a withered patch, which the day before 
looked promising, and hear the exclamations of wonder 
and praise, weeping and thanksgiving, mingled together, 
“lie’s sent the blast, blessed be his holy name!” “ITis 
blessed will be done—and we’ll all die with the hunger, 
and praise God we’re all poor sinners,” &c. They 
literally and practically carried out the principle of one 
in ancient days, who said “Though he slay me, yet will 


OF IRELAND. 


391 


I trust in him •” for though year after year they saw the 
root on which they and their fathers had lived, melt 
away, yet they would not be persuaded but that the 
good God would give them the potatoe again ; and in 
1846-7 -8-9, when each successive year had produced the 
same if not worse effects, they yet persisted in saving, 
oftentimes by stealth, some part of a sound potatoe, to 
keep it from the hungry mouths of their children, that 
they might put it in the ground, and “ Plaise God we will 
have the potatoe again/' would be the persevering reply 
to all expostulation. So wedded are they to this root, 
that notwithstanding many know and deeply feel that 
it has been their rod of oppression, yet they emphati¬ 
cally “ kiss the rod, and Him that hath appointed it /’ 
and could a decree now go forth that the potatoe should 
be restored to its pristine soundness and health, and 
that the present generation and their posterity for ever 
should feed on this root exclusively, and have work six 
days a-week, at four-pence or sixpence a-day, there 
would be a universal jubilee kept through mountain and 
glen, and bonfires would from hill-top to bog extinguish 
the light of moon and star, for many a joyful night. 
And let it be expected by those who would do good to 
Ireland, and elevate her in the scale of being, that it 
will be many a long year before the sickle will be as joy¬ 
fully and heartily worked as the spade. This spade has a 
thousand associations, entwining in and about the hearts 
of parent and child, which no other instrument of hus¬ 
bandry can claim; it has cut the turf that lighted up 
the mud-wall cabin, and boiled the “ blessed potatoe 
it has dug the pit in front of the cabin for the duck-pond ; 
it has piled the manure-heap at the corner, mountain 
high j it has planted the ridge which furnished their 
daily bread ; it has made the ditch, and repaired the 
road ; it has stood by the hearth or door through many 
a dark and stormy night, to guard the little stack for 
the cow against the tithe gatherer; it has been a fireside 
and field-companion; and above all, and over all, it has 
measured and hollowed out many a last sleeping bed 
for a darling child, a beloved husband or wife, and in 


392 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


the dark days of the famine it has often been the only 
companion to accompany the father, mother, husband, 
wife, or child, who has had the corpse of a hunger- 
stricken relative in a sack or tied to the back, to convey 
it to the dread uncoffined pit, where are tumbled, in 
horrid confusion, the starved dead of all ages. 

The sickle has not that claim to the affections of what 
is genteelly called the “lower order.” It is more aristo¬ 
cratic in its station and occupation. It has been used in 
the hands of the poor, to reap down the fields of the rich 
“ for nought;” it has cut the wheat and the barley for 
the tax-gatherer, the landlord, and the surpliced “ hire¬ 
ling,” who “ reaps where he sowed not,” and “ gathers 
where he has not strawed.” 

With all these considerations, it must be expected that 
this instrument will be approached with caution, if not 
suspicion ; and wonder not if they feel like David, when 
the armour of Saul was put on him, to go out and meet 
Goliath : “ I cannot go with these, for I have not proved 
them .” He who would reform, must not only know what 
is to be done, but how it is best to do it effectually. The 
Irish will never be laughed or preached out of their re¬ 
lish for the potatoe, neither should it be attempted ; let 
them love it —let them cidtivate it, but let it not be like 
the grass of the field for the bullock, who is adapted en¬ 
tirely to that food, and which has never failed to give 
him a supply. Learn the Irish by use that they need 
not relish the potato less , but they may love the bread 
and other esculents more, that should one fail, they may 
turn to another with convenience. Give them good 
healthy food as substitutes, and cast the musty, sour 
Indian meal, with the “ black bread” away—frighten 
them not with sickening dangerous food, and tell them 
it is because they are dainty and savage that they do not 
relish it. If what is given them be “ good enough for 
kings,” then let kings eat it; for if God has “ made of 
one blood all the nations of the earth, he may have made 
the palate, too, somewhat similar. If bread will strengthen 
John Russell's heart, it will the “ bog-trotter’s” also ; if 
a fine-spun broadcloth, with gilt buttons, become the 


OF IRELAND. 


393 


backs of the Queen’s ministers, then surely a coarser 
texture, without patch or rent, would not sit ungracefully 
on the shoulders of Paddy. Let him, if made in the 
image of God, be a man too ; and let him not be thought 
presuming, if he be one of the Queen’s subjects, should 
he aspire to a mediocrity among the humblest who call 
themselves so. If the Irish say most heartily , “Long- 
live the Queen,” let the Queen respond heartily , and 
“ while I live I will do good to my Irish subjects.” If 
the sixty-two mud-wall huts to each hundred in the 
■worst parts, and twenty-three in the best , as Mr. Bright 
asserts, look a little untidy in an isle where castles and 
rich domains dot the green surface, why not substitute 
the comely cottage ? and if the manure-heap be unseemly 
to eyes and unsavoury to the nose, plant in its stead the 
vine and the rose—for be assured, in no isle of the sea 
will they bloom fairer. 

England has held this pretty gem of the ocean by 
the cable of king and queenship for centuries, floating and 
dashing alternately in the vascillating uncertain waves of 
hope and desperation, casting in oil when the tempest 
runs highest—pulling the cord gently, and whispering 
“ Sister,” when she finds her loosening her holdings to 
make for a more open sea ; and then promises to repair 
her breaches, and make her to “sing as in the days of 
her youth.” But there she is, rocking and floating still, 
her wild tresses dishevelled, her head uncovered, and her 
feet still bare. One hundred and thirty years ago, she 
had 160,000 families that had no chimnies in their 
hovels ; now she has 62 in 100 not fit for man to inhabit 
in one part, and on an average of something like 44 or 
45 through the whole island, from which the beaver and 
woodchuck might blush to be found peeping. Why, in 
the name of all that is common sense or common decency, 
if she cannot be remodelled, if she is rooted and grounded 
in her everlasting filth, her disgusting tatters , and frightful 
rags, is she not cut loose and left to sink or swim, as best 
she can manage % If she can be transformed into any¬ 
thing like comeliness, why is she hung out a never- 
fading, never -dying scarecrow to all the world beside \ 

s 3 


394 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


If the last four years have not turned her inside out, and 
shown her, in the face of heaven, to the nations of the 
earth—if any deformity remain which is yet to he served 
up, for one, I pray, “ have me excused.'’ If England by 
this time do not know of what sort this her “ sister 
island” is, if she do not understand either her disease or- 
her cure, all may be given up as lost, for until “ the ele¬ 
ments shall melt with fervent heat,” the earth disclose 
her slain, and the “sea give up her dead,” can any more 
that is forbidding, revolting, and even terrific, be held 
out to the world, than has that island presented for 
ages gone by ; and if she is loved, why not cherish her? 
if hated, why not wholly cast her off? 

To the words of the faithful, fearless, warm-hearted 
John Bright, let the philanthropist respond—“Aboli¬ 
tion of primogeniture for underived property—registry of 
property—reduction of the enormous charges for stamps 
for the sale and purchase of land—security of tenure for 
the practical labourers of the soil—abolition of the Estab¬ 
lished Church in Ireland—extension of the suffrage— 
and reinforcement of the representature in the Imperial 
Parliament. 

“ If the aristocracy of the United Kingdom have 
heaped evils unnumbered upon Ireland, why should not 
the people of the United Kingdom make ample restitu¬ 
tion ?” And let all the people rise, and say in one 
united doxology, “ Amen, so let it be. 

WATER CURE. 

While lingering in and about Cork, among all its 
gardens and pleasant walks, a spot two miles from 
Blarney Castle, well known for the past five years, as 
the “ Water Cure” establishment, kept by Ur. Barter, 
should not be passed over in silence. The Doctor has 
persevered through and over all prejudices, sufficient to 
make the place a very desirable one on many accounts. 
Its location is well chosen, standing on an airy, sightly 
eminence, looking down upon the rich vales and woods 
of Blarney, its own back-w r oods left, with the excep¬ 
tion of a few foot-paths and seats, to its natural wild¬ 
ness ; its picturesque bathing-house or cottage, and its 


OF IRELAND. 


33-5 


cultivated farm, of which the Doctor is the principal 
manager, make it, taken as a whole, a place of inte¬ 
resting resort. The house for patients is large and 
pleasant, its inmates made up of such as have hope if not 
faith, that plunging and dipping, showering and drink¬ 
ing cold water, possesses special, if not super-excellencies 
m the healing way, when applied scientifically, more than 
when old Dame Nature, in her homespun manner, tells 
them to drink when they are thirsty, and wash when 
they are smutty. His terms are calculated better for the 
purses of the higher classes than for the poorer sort, 
consequently he does not keep a hospital of charity, and 
those who resort there for a time, find good intelligent 
company, and when not made into mummies, or ducking 
and sweating, can walk or ride, read or chat, as they 
may find it most congenial. The table is abundantly 
supplied with eatables, so that llesh-eaters as well as 
anti-flesh-eaters may have all they can rationally ask, 
the only prohibition being tea and coffee. Many have 
tested the efficacy and declared it good, and it would 
seem impossible that a summer could be passed on that 
mountain, with the pure breezes of Ireland fanning the 
blood, and the sparkling water kissing the skin, and not 
be “ cured of whatever disease he had,” if the disease 
had not passed the healing art. 

The Doctor is a great agriculturalist, and if he had 
the bogs and hunting-grounds made over to him, famine 
if not pestilence would vanish from that rich soil. He 
thinks much and talks when disposed, and is physio¬ 
logist enough to know that flesh and gravies are not the 
food suited to the system of any invalid ; yet with a 
desire to please, or to retain invalids in his house, he 
practices these inconsistencies, as he candidly acknow¬ 
ledges them. 

A week was pleasantly passed in the house and upon 
the premises; and were a spot pre-eminently happy for 
everything needful and social to be chosen, that might 
be the one to meet all cases. Whoever is devotional 
may have his Bible and prayers ; whoever is merry may 
have psalms and the piano; whoever wants exercise 


396 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


may find battledoors, swings, and woody walks ; and 
whoever wants bathing can find bathing tubs, and cold 
or warm water. 


friend’s funeral. 

A funeral under any circumstances, or among any 
people, whether Christian or pagan, has a solemnity 
which casts a shade, for a moment at least, over all levity; 
and never probably in war or peace, in pomp or destitu¬ 
tion, among civilized or uncivilized, was there a pro¬ 
cession bearing to its last home a body from which the 
soul had fled, which did not produce on the minds of the 
multitude a check if not a reflection, that the “ deep, 
damp vault,” where the departed is about to be shut 
from the light of the world and the converse of his fellow- 
men, was a mysterious hiding-place, into which secret the 
souls of the living did not wish to enter. 

It w r as about Midsummer on a sunny morning, when 
looking from the door of William Martin, in Cork, a 
procession unexpectedly moved before my vision, and 
never in the short space of a moment did more painful 
and pleasant remembrances pass in review. Painful, 
because were again presented the friends, who in my 
native land, one by one as they departed, rose in suc¬ 
cession before me, and because I knew there were 
sorrowing hearts in that train—and mine well knew the 
pangs of such : but pleasant, because that in the comely 
throng, who with slow and solemn step measured the 
distance, the unnatural custom which mock fashion 
has introduced was not manifest. IFomati was in that 
procession, precisely the procession where she belongs— 
woman , whose heart emphatically can “ weep with those 
that weep ,”—woman who loves to the last, and acts to 
the last; why, tell us why, should she not follow to the 
narrow, dark house, the relative she has cherished, or 
the neighbour she has valued and loved ; the friend with 
w r hom she may have taken “ sweet counsel, and walked 
to the house of God in company V' Why should she not 
go “ in company” now “ to the house appointed for all 
living,” and where she shall, in her own due time, be 


OF IRELAND. 


397 

transported ? Pleasant too, because the vain trappings 
of hireling undertakers, “ nodding plumes,” mourning 
horses and black hearses were not there. It was simply 
and truly a Friend's funeral. 

Not stopping to inquire the name or age of the 
deceased, or who would accompany me, I crossed the 
street and joined the procession. Like the burial in the 
city of Nain 1800 years ago, “much people of the city" 
were there. A mile or more through the town, gave 
time for that reflection so suitable and profitable when 
the soul is necessarily summoned to the face of that 
“ King of terrors,” and there interrogated as to its 
present state and future destiny. Slowly and silently 
the entrance to that enclosure, where the dead were 
congregated, was opened and passed; and as with the pen 
of a diamond was that panorama impressed on my eye 
and heart. It was a square of smooth green, with the 
exception of the unpretending hillocks, which without a 
stone told that the dead lay there. The whole enclosure 
was surrounded by trees of rich summer foliage ; these, 
as they waved gracefully over the wall, shed a trembling- 
shadow upon the emerald covering of the beds of the 
sleeping, and the still house of death was quietly 
approached, and every member of that Society sat down 
together to this mourning feast, and there in solemn sweet 
silence waited to hear what God would say. The narrow 
bed was open before them—the plain coffin that enclosed 
the body of the dead was waiting to enter—an interval 
of some thirty minutes of solemn silence was broken by 
a deep-toned measured voice ; and never before did the 
words “ Blessed are the dead that die in the Lord,” 
so sweetly, so solemnly, so unearthly, fall on my ear—as 
if standing on that Isle of Patmos, the voice that spake 
to John, seemed to reverberate through that assembly, 
that to me appeared as if already standing on “ Mount 
Zion before the Lamb.” The sentences were short and 
pithy, and from them I ascertained that the departed 
before us was an aged female, who had fulfilled as a 
faithful hireling her day, and had come to the grave 
“ like a shock of corn fully ripe.” He praised her not 


398 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


in studied eulogiums—lie held her not up between us 
and the Lamb who redeemed her, as a bright pattern 
for our imitation ; but he said deeply and emphatically, 
“ Yea, they rest from their labours and their works do 
follow them. ,, He dwelt a moment on that sweet rest 
prepared for the people of God, and if any were there who 
had not entered into it, surely they must then have felt 
a desire. 

He was followed by one who addressed the Majesty 
of heaven with that adoration which always marks the 
manner of one whose supplications emanate from the 
deep working of the Holy Spirit within the soul, and 
that speaks because it feels, and feels because it has some¬ 
thing to feel. It was done—the coffin was carefully let 
down to its long resting-place—“ Dust to dust” met, 
green sod was fitly placed on her breast, nor was the 
silence in the least broken till all had passed the 
enclosure. 

I would not exchange that hour for a thousand dinner 
parties of fashionable professors, or pompous burials of 
the titled great, who have lived but to be honoured, and 
whose true epitaph could only be— 

“ He lived and died.” 

The time was drawing nigh when effects must be 
gathered, and Cork must be left. The season had been 
spent most pleasantly and profitably, for cultivated 
minds were ever at hand, and hospitable boards were 
always made welcome. To designate who was the 
kindest, would be a difficulty wholly uncalled for, as all 
and every one were more than courteous. Justice com¬ 
pels an acknowledgment of one distinguished favour, 
which was and is more prized for the manner in which 
it was done. The Irish, I have before remarked, are in 
their habits of giving, most nobly, removed from an 
ostentatious display, or from a manner which makes the 
recipient feel that he is so deeply indebted that he can 
never be discharged. 

In the year 1845, I stopped in the house of Mrs. 
Fisher, who generously refused any compensation; when 


OF IRELAND. 


399 


the second visit was made to that city, I again took 
lodgings with her, determining to pay; but as she was 
generous in the first instance, I did not inquire terms, 
lest she might suppose it an indirect suggestion for a 
second gift. On my departure the bill was called for, 
fifteen weeks’ uncontrolled access to drawing-room or 
parlour, and good lodging. Not a shilling was demanded 
and not a shilling would she accept. This was hospi¬ 
tality, apparently “without grudging,” and certainly 
without display. 

I sailed from that harbour with a heart full of grati¬ 
tude to all with whom I had been conversant, and full 
of sorrow, that my eyes would never again see those kind 
friends who had made my stay so pleasant, and the last 
farewell of the kind Theobald Mathew, and the hospi¬ 
table, intelligent Beales, who were ready at the packet, 
was the finishing touch to sensations already too pressing 
upon me. 

The captain had generously given my passage, and 
ordered the steward to see that all and everything was 
prepared for my comfort. This, by my own negligence, or 
in some other way, was not performed, and the night to 
me was a sad one. When all had stepped on shore, and 
the ring of the packet bell died on the ear, I sat down 
upon the side of the vessel, and with feelings much like 
those when sailing out of New York, a passive, stoical 
indifference, amounting almost to selfishness, passed 
over me; and I turned away, and could not or would 
not look upon the sweet hills that hung over the Lee, 
and scarcely did I see the wave of the handkerchiefs on 
that lovely South Terrace, as the steamer sailed, where 
I had enjoyed so much. The passage was rough, the 
wind high, and the night long , cold and dreary. Wrap¬ 
ping my cloak about me, I had reclined under a little 
awning on the deck, not once asking for a berth in the 
cabin, and not till a stranger aroused me, and said, “ It 
is both imprudent and late to be stopping here, 5 ’ did 
my stupor leave me in the least. Then it was too late 
to find a bed, and the remainder of the night was passed 
as uncomfortably as it commenced. 


400 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


It was not wholly the parting with kind friends, or 
shutting my eyes for ever on waters, flowers, rich valleys 
and hills, that so unnerved me ; but it was Ireland , that 
land of song and of sorrow, that I was leaving for ever. 
It was Ireland , where I had been so strangely sent, so 
strangely preserved, and to which I was so strangely 
linked, by sights of suffering and unparalleled woe. It 
was Ireland that was still drinking that fathomless cup of 
misery extreme, whose bottom has yet never been sounded, 
and whose brim is still running over, welling up and 
oozing out, in spite of long and deep draughts continually 
tasted. The visitor among strangers, who is receiving 
tokens of kindness and presents of remembrance, in the 
routine of other engagements may not examine and 
appreciate all in possession, till the hurry is past, the 
visit ended; and then coolly and calmly the parcel is 
opened, and every memento, however valuable or trifling, 
has a just estimate, if judgment be competent to the 
task. My parcel was left untouched that night; passive, 
enduring, as if covered suddenly by an avalanche, which 
only left room for breathing, with no room for struggling, 
was all that could effectually be done. 

The morning found me in Dublin ; and here new trials 
were in waiting. My trunk, containing nearly all that 
was valuable in wearing apparel, was left in the care of 
the poor woman where I had lodged through the winter. 
She had before been entrusted with it, and her honesty 
had never been doubted. Her husband had become in¬ 
temperate, and she had been placed in this great house 
by the landlady to keep it, and wait on lodgers, who paid 
her what they saw fit. The lodgers had left, all but one, 
and she had no resources; her children, three in number, 
were crying for bread. She went to the trunk, took a 
dress, and carried it to one of the nuisances—a pawn¬ 
broker’s—and procured bread. She took a second and 
third, until the trunk was emptied of garments to the 
number of fourteen, together with a few valuable books 
and other etceteras, among which was a silver teaspoon, 
which had seen nearly half a century, and had been the 
admiration of many a Connaught and Kerry wight, when 


OF IRELAND. 


401 


sitting with them around the basket of potatoes. This, 
which was carried in my pocket, wrapped in clean paper, 
served for knife and fork, tea-cup, plate, and saucer, 
during every tour over mountain and bog. Blessed com¬ 
panion ! it had become “part and parcel” of myself; 
beside it was a true born American, and had an inden¬ 
ture made by an agonized child when in the act of taking 
medicine. Sacred relic! 

Bridget met me at the door—the usual gladness and 
hearty salutation were wanting, “ How are you, Bridget, 
and how are the children V’ was answered by, “ Bad 
enough, God knows; and bad luck to you.’ 7 “ What 
luck to me V 7 “ Your clothes are gone, and I couldn’t 
help it.” Not in the least suspecting her integrity, the 
natural inquiry was, “ Has the house been robbed V* 
Frankly, she replied, “No, but / have taken them; my 
children were starving with hunger; I found the trunk 
open, which a painter who went into the chamber opened, 
as I supposed. You had long been gone, it was uncer¬ 
tain when you would return, and I might and should re¬ 
deem them in a few weeks, and they are all in the pawn.” 
The cause and effect were both before me in a true light, 
and the question is left to mothers, how they might have 
acted in a case like this. She had heard me say that 
life was more valuable than property, and when that was 
in peril, property became the moral right of him who 
had tried every expedient to save life, but especially 
when the taking of it did not threaten the same condi¬ 
tion of that in which he was placed. She had said, “ I 
will never see my children die for bread ; I will work, I 
will beg, and when neither will do, I would go and stand 
on that bridge, (which was under the window) and if 
asking would not do, I would seize the first that my 
hands could wrench from any one passing/’ She had 
flung me back on my principles, by acting up to hers, and 
what could be said. She could have been transported ; 
and the whole city, who knew the affair, and had never 
been hungry, neither entered into her starving case or 
pitied me for my foolish forbearance. The rich landlady 
who had recommended her to me coolly said she would 


402 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


put her out of the house, and she did so ; and I found 
poor Bridget in a miserable hovel, with no means of 
support, and regretted that the landlady had ever known 
the circumstance. All the garments but one were found, 
but many of them so mildewed as not worth redeeming ; 
the missing one was the best, and doubtless was taken by 
the painter. But the spoon—ah, the lucky spoon ! It 
is now in a closet, where I am sitting, in London, doubly, 
yes trebly, valued for its extensive travels and fortunate 
escapes. I look at it, and think of the peasant children, 
and the potatoe, and poor Bridget and the pawnbroker. 

The reader is left to name this tale “ Lights’ or 
“ Shades ” of Ireland, as best suits his principles; for 
myself, in my heart, I could not pronounce the woman a 
thief, and would as soon have trusted her in all common 
cases after this as before, and am glad that her children 
did not starve when my garments were lying useless. 

The time for a little review of the past, and prepa¬ 
ration for the future, had now come. Ireland had been 
explored, and England "was in prospect. The Americans 
had written that the last donation was on the ocean, and 
probably no more would be sent. Why should my stay 
be protracted ; for the inward voice was continually 
urging, “ I have finished the work that thou gavest me 
to do.’ 7 Far, far be it from me to say that this work was 
well finished ; many many mistakes might be corrected, 
but this I would candidly and humbly say, they were 
not wilful, but ignorant or misjudging ones. So faithful 
was conscience in her scrutinizing, that hours, yes days, 
when sitting alone in a chamber at Richard Webb’s, pre¬ 
paring for London, she would ash, and earnestly too, Had 
I done what I could ? —had I not sometimes consulted my 
own ease ?—had I laboured to the extent, with hands, feet, 
money, tongue, pen, and influence, to do, by little or by 
great means, what my Master had required 1 —had I not 
sometimes, when condemning the whiskey-drinking and 
wine-bibbing of the clergy and gentry, spent a penny on 
some little relish to take with my bread, when that penny 
would have given a poor labouring man a pound of 
meal, and my bread could have been taken without it ? 


OF IRELAND. 


403 


had I not burned a candle an hour, when neither 
reading or working, or put an additional piece of turf 
on the grate, when the poor, sick, dying cabiners had 
not either ?—had I not paid a shilling for riding, when 
my feet were able for the journey ? But above all, that 
trunk of clothes ! When packing it to leave, the question 
was suggested, Is this not laying up treasures on earth ? 
and should “moth corrupt,” or “ thieves break through 
and steal,” my hoarding would be justly rebuked. I had 
often thought, as the last alternative, of selling everything 
for bread to give to the starving, that could possibly 
be spared, without leaving myself in a suffering state. 
This had not been done, the clothes were hoarded, and 
the virtual thieves—the pawnbrokers—had taken if not 
stolen them. This was followed by the startling passage, 
“ If thine own conscience condemn thee, God is greater 
than thy conscience, and knoweth all things.” Oh ! what 
searching of heart is there contained in the Holy 
Scriptures. Then again—had I by precept and example 
presented Christ, and so walked in Him that all who saw 
me took knowledge that I had learned of Him ?—had 
the words of eternal life been read and explained in 
every place where God gave me ability and opportunity, 
as might have been—had I been as faithful in rebuking 
the sins of the great, where opportunity presented, as I 
had those of the mean and despised ?—had “ a gift ever 
blinded my eyes,” to lead me unjustly to favour the giver, 
and had the kindly heartfelt welcomes of the poor been 
as grateful in some lowly mud cabin, and the humble 
invitation to a dinner of potatoes as flattering as the 
polished salutations of the rich, with the proffered arm 
of the master of the feast to sit down to a sumptuous 
table with honourable invited guests? Had I rejoiced 
with “exceeding great joy,” when my name had been 
cast out as evil, when reviled, and all manner of evil 
falsely said against me?—had that legacy of long standing 
and sure title been as salutary and as gratefully received, 
as would have been a bequest from the government, for 
sacrifices made for the poor? All this and more sunk 
deep, and remained long, when conscience arraigned me 


404 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


for rendering the stewardship of that four years’ labour. 
“ What hast thou done with thy Lord’s money V’ Ah ! 
what indeed ? Has a portion been given to “ seven, and 
also to eight T —has the bread been cast upon the waters ; 
and shall 1 find it after many days ? To the cross I flee, 
there let me hide— simply, simply, solely there I cling. 

Turning from myself, and the retrospect of the past- 
four years, the coming out from Cork, as the last and 
almost finishing touch of the whole, presented, Theobald 
Mathew, with the impression made on my mind, when 
he stood on the dock, by the packet, on the Lee, as the 
vessel sailed away. His countenance is a marked one, 
and would be distinguished as such in a crowd of 
strangers. But grief and blasted hopes have so scathed 
his warm heart, that though he retains that benignity 
of expression so peculiarly his own, yet the pencil of 
sorrow has so shaded it, continued anxiety has so para¬ 
lyzed that hope which ever is, and ever must be the well- 
spring of the soul, that there seems a trembling doubting 
in every feature, whether to settle into a desponding 
passiveness, or struggle to maintain that wonted com¬ 
placency which has seemed an innate and inseparable 
part of his whole constitution. The scourge that has 
laid waste his people has withered, has scathed his 
very soul. He stood “between the living and the dead,” 
like a Phineas, till the plague was measurably stayed, 
when, in letting go his strained grasp, he found, he felt 
that his own hand had been weakened, and though he 
complained not, he saw, he knew that many who had 
cried “ Hosanna/’ if they did not say ll crucify him, crucify 
him,” would turn away and walk no more with him. The 
palsy that shook his body was a faint shadow of the 
palsy that withered the springs of his heart, and dried 
up the life-blood of his soul. Great as was his good¬ 
ness, and good as was his greatness, they neither of them 
had power to sustain a fabric whose framework was 
gentleness and confiding love. When the blast swept 
over him, and he felt his feet sliding, he reached out his 
believing hand to the supports he thought near him— 
they were gone ! It was then that the “ iron entered 


OF IRELAND. 


40 O 


into his soul/’—it was then that he found that love dies 
with money, and popularity thrives best when its hand 
is fullest , and needs it the least ;—it was then that he 
found experimentally that benevolence must be content 
with its own reward, till the “ time of the restitution of 
all things,” when every man shall be rewarded according 
to his works ; and that though he might have given “all 
his goods to feed the poor,” his recompense in return from 
his fellow-man might only be, “ Who hath required this 
at your hands ?” When a man is in trouble and his feet 
are fast sliding, the prompt enquiry is “ What brought 
him here ?—Has he been industrious, has he been honest, 
has he been temperate V ’ But when he is in prosperity, 
and the tide of fortune flow r s smoothly, who enquires 
whether he honestly, industriously, or soberly acquired this 
prosperity ? Who stands aloof from sharing his honours, 
which flow from his abundance, lest these honours 
come from an abundance too unjustly acquired? Has he 
robbed the poor and despoiled the widow and fatherless to 
till his granaries and decorate his halls? Who has any 
right to investigate that?—Let every man mind his own 
business is the rebuke. Theobald Mathew was in debt — 
how came he there ? Why everybody knew it was not to 
ago-randize himself; but he is in debt —he must have been 
imprudent if not dishonest ! True, he was, as the world 
calls it, in debt, but virtually he ow y es no man anything— 
the world never has, the world never will, the world never 
can repay him ; his debt is giving to the poor, when the 
poor were dying, what he then thought was justly his 
own, and justly tangible; and that depravity is to be 
pitied that imputes blame to generosity like this—a 
generosity which seeks notits own, but the good of those 
that are ready to perish. He loved his country—he 
loved his fellow-man of every clime, and his whole life 
has been spent in seeking their good. When he saw the 
world had misunderstood him, then he suffered unut¬ 
terable things; and the shock that both body and mind 
sustained has left an impress that throw's a constraint 
upon that full freedom which his real friends have been 
wont to exercise towards him; so abstracted does his 


40G 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


mind at times appear, that it is sometimes difficult to 
know either what chord to touch or what time to strike 
it, lest the unostentatious sensibilities of his heart should 
be awakened afresh to painful sensations. 

God preserve him, as well as all others, who live for 
the world and its benefit. The current of man’s heart 
must run in a different channel before it can render 
at all times even blessing for blessing , and better is he 
treated than was his Master, if the question do not apply 
to him also, “ Many good works have I shown you ; for 
which of these works do you stone me T’ The last famine 
has drawn out the true character of the people there , in a 
light most favourable to be understood; it has shown 
what was in man, by a dissection of almost every part of 
the system, and they never can hide again, as they have 
done, and the great pity is, that amid so much upturning 
there has been so little cleansing. True, the pool has 
not yet become quiescent, nor the sediment had time to 
settle; and when it shall, many that were “ filthy will 
be filthy still,” and those that were “righteous will be 
righteous still.” 

Though truth must and will triumph, judgment some¬ 
times long delays, and the accusations against the nation 
of that island have a foundation in truth, yet the per¬ 
verted judgment of men have so misapplied them, that 
at present the force they contain falls almost powerless. 
That there is injustice there cannot be denied, and this 
injustice has often been exercised by those who would 
have been least suspected. The famine, in spite of all 
evasions, has told some singular tales of this. The libe¬ 
rality of all nations has been most shamefully abused 
there, but the poor w r ere not in the fault, and yet the 
poor must and do suffer all the sad consequences ; for 
now, while the wail of woe and death is still going up in 
many parts, the response is neither money nor bread, but 
“they have been ungrateful, they have been dishonest, 
and we are tired of hearing of Ireland.” And were I to 
speak from honest conviction of W'hat passed there, in 
much of the distributions belonging to government, and 
much from other places, that went through paid hands, 


OF IRELAND. 


407 


had it been cast into the sea, the fishes might have been 
better benefited than were the starving; but to private 
donors, and to the churches of England, and the labour¬ 
ing classes, who entrusted their offerings to isolated 
churches and isolated almoners of their gifts, without fee 
or reward, let it be said, their donations in most cases 
were well applied, and greatly blessed. I have known, 
and record it with pleasure, that when a church there , 
from one lceve, v'as presented with money, clothing, or 
food, the minister of that church would divide it among 
such men and women as cheerfully sought out and 
supplied the most needy, with the utmost integrity. 
Many felt apparently that it was the Lord’s money m 
very deed, and belonged to the Lord’s poor, and that they 
must render a strict account of their stewardship; and 
had one half even that the government sent been with¬ 
held, and the other half entrusted to such hands, as 
managed with like discretion and honesty, many more 
lives would have been saved, and less complaint of ingra¬ 
titude been made. 

It must be seen that the work was a most arduous and 
difficult one, and it takes much less time and trouble to 
sit quietly at home and dictate how it should be done, 
or complain when it is finished how badly it was exe¬ 
cuted, than it w r ould to have gone in person and per¬ 
formed the task. It was a hurried v r ork—the four mil¬ 
lions of starving men, women, and children were calling 
for food to-day , they were calling in earnest , they could 
not wait days, and possibly w'eeks, till the honesty of a 
landlord, or the integrity of a rector, should go through 
the trial of a jury ; they could not stand round the doors 
of a church or chapel, waiting the decision of bishops 
and clergymen, priests and monks, v r hether the bread 
taken in commemoration of the Lord’s death, v r ere trans¬ 
formed into a part or whole of his real body or not, 
before they could have a piece of it; consequently, what 
w r as to be done must be done quickly , and in the kindly 
feeling which promptly lighted up, the givers would 
naturally and properly throw promiscuously whatever 
relief could be gathered by any hands that would offer. 


408 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


The government of England might possibly have dozed 
a little too long, regardless of what these her thriving 
landlords in that green isle were doing ; they might not 
have precisely understood how they were feeding, housing , 
and paying their serfs that were squatting “ lazily” upon 
their soil; they might not have applied the laws of 
mind precisely to this point, that these laws possess the 
unvarying principle of fixing deeply and firmly in the 
heart of the oppressor a hatred towards the being that 
he has unjustly coerced, and the very degradation to 
which he has reduced him becomes the very cause of 
his aversion towards him. Therefore such landlords, 
when famine pressed sorely upon their unpaid tenants, 
would necessarily by this law pity least, and neglect most, 
those who by accidental circumstances might be in 
greatest want. Those full-fed, government-paid clergy¬ 
men, who had learned the law of love through her own 
bread and wine exclusively, and whose jaundiced eyes 
saw dark and foul spots on all surplices but her own, 
would be quick to discern that the “ curse causeless does 
not comeand that as the Roman catholics embodied 
the majority of the sufferers in Ireland, and the Roman 
catholics were mostly fed on potatoes, and as God had 
blasted these potatoes, therefore they ought in humble 
acquiesence to say, “amen !” while the smoke of this tor¬ 
ment was ascending, if not be willing co-workers with 
God in the infliction of the punishment. When such 
did give what was entrusted to their hands, it was not 
always given “ with cheerfulness,” or without what they 
thought a merited rebuke. “ Don’t you see now,” said 
a pert wife of a curate of this class, “ don't you see what 
your idolatry has brought upon you handing a starving 
woman tauntingly a little food ; “ you’ve been told that 
something dreadful would come upon you long before, 
but you would not believe; now are you ready to come 
out of that church ? “ How,” said a bystander, “could 

you speak so unkindly to that poor starving suppliant 
at your door ; should you like the same treatment under 
the same circumstances?” “I should deserve it; and 
beside, how could I see her die under those awful delu- 


OF IRELAND. 


409 


sions ? ” “Would it not be better to show her Christ, 
and try to direct her to “ Christ ! how can she 

understand anything of Him, while in that church ? ” 
This is not a fac-simile of allm the government church, 
neither is it an isolated case. Another instance only 
shall be named, and it is named as an illustration of 
the spirit that was too much in exercise there, and how 
it acted upon the sufferers :— 

A poor man with a numerous family, applied to a 
rector of the Established Church for a portion of the dona¬ 
tions committed to his care for the parish. “ Where do 
you go to church T was the question. “lama catholic,” 
the man answered. “Ah, yes, give your soul to the 
priest, and come here for me to feed your body ; go back, 
and get your bread where you get your teaching.” “ This 
will learn ’em,” said the exulting sexton of the church, 
who related the incident, “ this will learn ’em where they 
are.” The poor man went away without relief, though 
he belonged to the parish, and had a claim. Turning 
them over to the priests was the worst part of the spirit; 
for the priests, in the first place, were not a government- 
paid people, and in the next, they had at that time no 
donations entrusted to them \ and to tantalize a hungry 
man with that retort, was like hanging him in gibbets, 
and then telling him to eat bread. 

Such treatment was calculated not only to drive the 
poor to all sorts of intrigue, but to make them hate still 
more a religion that they always supposed to be false. The 
question which the Quaker put to the rector could well 
apply here, when he remarked that no good would be done 
to the papists in Ireland while they rejected the Bible— 
“ What good, friend, has thy Bible done thee ?” Ah, true; 
what good does it do to any who practice not its spirit. 
It is not intended to imply, by these statements, that the 
clergy of the Established Church in Ireland, during the 
famine, Avere all bigots, or all hard-hearted, and without 
any true Christianity ; but it is intended to say, that the 
spirit of bigotry and partiality was there, and wherever 
manifested, whether by that religious party or any other, 
had a most unfavourable effect both on the bodies and 


T 


410 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


minds of the suffering. The government could not control 
that, any more than a crazy inebriate can help doing 
what he is tempted to do; but the inebriate, when he is 
sober, should keep so, and not put himself in the power 
of an enemy that can injure him so much; and if the 
experience of two or three centuries in Ireland have not 
proved that carnal weapons are not needed in a church, 
and that Christ, who should be the head of it, has no 
occasion for them, surely they must be dull learners. 

The Christian may despair of conquest when kindness 
and love have no effect, and in the famine, when these 
were exercised, they were felt and acknowledged. Let 
any stranger, in the year 1850, go into every parish in 
that country, and make investigation of the true state 
of feeling, as it would naturally flow out without any 
design ; and if that stranger made no party allusions 
that should awaken jealousy, he would hear lavish 
blessings bestowed on dissenters of every grade, where 
these dissenters had manifested a kindly feeling. “And 
there’s the rector that would do the heart good,” — 
u There’s the blessed minister, that’s worth the day’s walk 
to hear his discourse,”—“ And would ye see the lady 
that’s the blessin’ to the poor T &c. Do you say this is 
selfishness?—it is a just appreciation of right and wrong; 
and where right is not exercised why should it be ac¬ 
knowledged ? What gospel requires that a man should 
say of an unjust neighbour that he walks uprightly, lest 
some evil-eyed partizan should judge him by his own 
narrow spirit ? And blinded as the world is by sin, and 
perverted as education may be, there are things done 
which will bear looking in the face without blushing * 
there are things done so well that an enemy, however 
skilful, could not improve them ; and there are fallen 
men and women in the lower ranks of life, without any 
refinement of education, that can appreciate these well 
done things and even do them too ; and with all the zig¬ 
zag movements in the famine there were some redeeming 
qualities, there were some things carried on and carried 
through, which were not accused of sectarianism, for the 
simplest reason—none was manifest. 


OF IRELAND. 


411 


Tlie Society of Friends justly merit this acknowledg¬ 
ment, and they have it most heartily from every portion 
of Ireland. Not belonging to that Society, my oppor¬ 
tunity of testing the true feeling of the poor was a good 
one, and when in a school or soup-shop, the question was 
put—Who feeds you? or, who sends you these clothes? the 
answer was ; “ The good quakers, lady, and it’s they that 
have the religion entirely/’ One young man seriously 
enquired of me, what sort of people they might be, and 
if their religion were like any other, and where they got 
sich a good one : “By dad, don’t you think it’s the best 
in the world ?” It certainly produces good works among 
the poor of Ireland, was the reply. “And where may 
they say their prayers ? I wish I could hear ’em ; or, 
don’t they say prayers ? ” Fie pressed so closely, that 
vague answers would not avail, the foundation of a faith 
which was so different from what he had seen in any 
people, as he said, “ intirely,” he determined to make 
out; and finally enquired if they suffered persons of 
other faith to see them worship ; and added, “ I should 
like to see it.” He was directed to a meeting in Dublin 
which was open on that day, and after getting all pre¬ 
liminaries as to how he must behave, he ventured in. 

The meeting was a silent one ; he saw no altars, he 
heard no prayers, and his astonishment at their worship 
was equal to his admiration of their goodness. “ And 
wasn’t it quare that they didn’t spake?’’ “They were 
waiting in silence till they should have something given 
them to speak.” This increased the difficulty, and he 
went away perfectly confounded, wishing he could know 
something more about them, “for they must be a blessed 
people.” 

This simple-minded lad lived in a remote part of 
Ireland, had never been in a city before; and he said 
that he had seen these good people in the mountains 
giving alms, and “didn’t they spake so kindly,” he 
added, “I intended to see ’em if I could find where they 
stopped.” Simple-minded youth, what could he do more? 

While writing this, a report has been sent me of the 
Birr Mission, at Parsonstown in Ireland, under the 

t 2 


412 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


superintendence of Mr. Carlisle, and I happily find by 
the following extract this fresh proof of the effect of 
kindness on the hearts of the most bigoted. 

The Report states: “The medical coadjutor of the 
Mission, noticed in our last Report as having been sent 
to us from Edinburgh, continues his labours most assidu¬ 
ously and most usefully. Nothing has done so much to¬ 
wards removing the prejudices of Roman catholics against 
us—even those who formerly were most opposed and 
most bigoted—as his kind, unwearied, and skilful atten¬ 
tion to the sick poor. It has already opened the way for 
the word of God to many families from which it formerly 
was debarred ; and we observe that the prejudices of a 
class of society above the poor, with whom he has no 
direct intercourse in the way of his profession, are giving 
way before this kind and conciliatory approach to the 
population generally.” 

Were there space in these pages, like instances might 
be multiplied, and two which come under my notice 
were so in point, that they are entitled to a record in a 
better place. 

A few miles north of Dublin, in the winter of 1847-8, 
a minister of the Independent church was sick for weeks, 
and his life seemed suspended in doubt for some days. 
One sabbath, in a chapel, after the morning service was 
finished, the priest called the attention of the people to 
his case, and added, “ If he dies, God will take from us 
one of the best men in the country, and who will fill his 
place % All we can do is to pray for him, and surely 
you will all do that.” Voices were loud in responding, 
yes, yes ; and they tarried another hour and went through 
their prayers for the sick. Now, as inefficient as these 
prayers might be, they were the legitimate offspring 
of kindness and goodwill which this minister had prac¬ 
tised, till he had not only removed prejudice, but had 
substituted like feelings of kindness. 

The second case, was that of a good woman, who 
belonged to the Methodist denomination. She had been 
a pattern of good works in her neighbourhood, without 
regard to party; and the poor loved her as their long- 


OF IRELAND. 


413 


tried friend. She died. The priest of the parish was 
noted for his peace-making spirit and liberality. The 
sabbath after this good woman’s death, he concluded the 
exercises of the day by naming the circumstance, and 
saying, “ When God takes such good ones from the 
earth as this woman was, the living have not only cause 
to mourn, but to tremble, lest that his anger has gone 
out against the inhabitants, and He will not suffer such 
righteous ones to live among them.” 

In a few weeks from this, that priest died, the husband 
of the good woman just named, dropped an obituary 
notice in a paper which he edited, mentioning the con¬ 
ciliatory disposition of the priest, and his exertions in 
the parish to keep peace. A nephew of this priest 
called a few days after and thanked the editor for the 
kind notice, saying, “ it was more than he could expect.” 
In two weeks from this an obituary of the nephew was 
inserted in the same paper. But mark the effects of 
simply carrying out the principle of Christian kindness ! 
Was Christ dishonoured—was Christ offended? 

PROSELYTISM. 

It requires the Irish language to provide suitable 
words for a suitable description of the spirit which is 
manifested in some parts to proselyte, by bribery, the 
obstinate Homans to the church which has been her 
instrument of oppression for centuries. The English 
language is too meagre to delineate it in the true light. 
Hice, Indian meal, and black bread would, if they had 
tongues, tell sad and ludicrous tales. The artless chil¬ 
dren too, who had not become adepts in deceit, would 
and did sometimes by chance tell the story, in short 
and pithy style. It was a practice by some of the 
zealous of this class, to open a school or schools, and 
invite -those children who were in deep want to attend, 
and instruction, clothes, and food should be given, on 
the simple terms of reading the scriptures and attending 
the church. The church catechism must be rehearsed 
as a substitute for the Romish, and though in substance 
a passage or two looked as if the hoof of the so-called 


414 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


“ beast,” might have been over it and left a modest 
track, yet by its adherents it was thought to be the 
pure coin. The children flocked by scores and even 
hundreds : they were dying with hunger, and by going 
to these places they could “ keep the life in ’em,” and 
that was what they most needed ; they could go on the 
principle, “ if thou hast faith, have it to thyself before 
God,” and when the hunger was appeased, and the 
“ blessed potatoe should come, they could say mass at 
home ae:ain.” When such children were interrogated 
the answer v r ould be, “ We are going back to our own 
chapel, or our own religion, when the stirabout times 
are over;” or when the “bread’s done,” or the “potatoes 
come again.” “ But you are saying these prayers and 
learning this catechism.” “We shan’t say the prayers 
when we go back—we’ll say our own then,” &c. Now the 
more experienced father or mother would not have said 
this to a stranger, and such might have passed for a true 
convert, while receiving the “stirabout.” The priests 
were very quiet while this kind of bantering was in 
progress ; they knew its beginning, and by this “ con¬ 
cordance ” could well trace the end; they held these 
favoured ones of their flock by a cord while the stomach 
was filling, as the traveller does his steed that he is 
watering, and turns it away when its thirst is assuaged, 
caring little at what fountain he drinks, if the water be 
wholesome. “We had as lieve they would be in that 
school as any,” said a priest, “while they are so young; 
we can counteract all the bad or wrong impressions their 
lessons may have had on their minds.” 

The priests of Ireland have had their wits well 
sharpened by the constant check held over them by 
penal laws, and a government church, and they have 
not been guilty of great proselyting, finding as much 
work as would keep them upon the alert, continually to 
keep their oivn hold, and the flock safe already in pos¬ 
session. The Episcopalians and dissenters, on the other 
hand, knowing that they were the minority, and, that 
the power they held was not precisely “just and equal,” 
feared that some new king or minister, or some sudden 


OF IRELAND. 


415 


government squall, might blow down their uncertain 
bamboo fabric, had to double their cries of priestcraft 
and popery, persecutions and murders, to keep their 
citadels of self-defence well secured, with the stirring 
watchword of “popery” ever stimulating the soldiery to 
ready action, in case of insurrection. Thus, as they 
first preached Christ through bullets, bombshells, and 
fire, so they still hold him up as the “ God of battles,” 
to all who would not receive him through the breath of 
their mouths. 

The soldiery stationed in Ireland are a living proof of 
this principle, and especially so, as this army is required 
to show its warlike power in defence of the missionaries 
stationed there, being called out to display their banners 
when any new converts are to be added to the protestant 
ranks from the Romish church. An instance of this 
was related by a coast-guard officer, stationed in the 
town of Dingle. Some five or six years ago, a half-dozen 
or more of the Romans had concluded to unite with the 
protestant mission establishment there, and the sabbath 
that the union was to take place in the church, the 
soldiery were called out to march under arms, to pro¬ 
tect this little band from the fearful persecutions that 
awaited them on the way thither. The coast-guard officer 
was summoned to be in readiness cap d pie for battle, if 
battle should be necessary ; he remonstrated—he was a 
Methodist by profession, and though his occupation was 
something warlike, yet he did not see any need of carnal 
weapons in building up a spiritual church ; but he was 
under government pay, and must do government work. 
He accordingly obeyed, and, to use his own words 
substantially, “We marched in battle array, with gun 
and bayonet, over a handful of peasantry—a spectacle 
to angels, of our trust in a crucified Christ , and the ridi¬ 
cule and gratification of priests and their flocks, who 
had discernment sufficient to see that with all the 
boasted pretensions of a purer faith and better object of 
worship, both were not enough to shield our heads against 
a handful of turf, which might have been thrown by 
some ragged urchin, with the shout of * turncoat’ or 


416 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


'souper/ as this was the bribe which the Romanists said 
was used to turn the poor to the church; and though 
this was before the potatoe famine, yet the virtues of 
soup were well known then in cases of hungry stomachs, 
and the Dingle Mission had one in boiling order for all 
who came to their prayers.'’ The coast-guard continues, 
“ We went safely to the church, and the next Mission 
Paper, to my surprise and mortification, told a pitying 
world that so great were the persecutions in Dingle, that 
the believing converts could not go to the house of God 
to profess their faith in Him, without calling out the 
soldiery to protect them.’’ 

This circumstance is quite in keeping with much of 
what is called persecution there; and though it cannot 
and should not be denied, but that in some cases, there 
has been great opposition and much severity manifested 
by papists, towards those who have left their church, yet 
a spirit of retaliation will never deaden the life of that 
persecuting spirit, nor bring any to see the benefit of a 
religion which bears the same impress which is stamped 
on theirs. These tw r o contending powers have had so 
much to do to keep, one his own foot-hold , and the other 
his flock, that little time has been left for preaching 
Christ, or carrying out his gospel; and I pray to be for¬ 
given, if wrong, in saying, that in no place whatever, 
where Christianity is preached, have the sad effects of a 
nominal one been more fatal. The letter without the spirit 
has showm emphatically what it can do. It can make men 
proud, covetous, vainly puffed-up, and it can make them 
oppressive too ; it can make them feel, and it can make 
them act as did the Puritan, in the early settlement of the 
New England colonies. “ The earth,” he said, “ was the 
Lord’s, and the fulness thereof, and what is the Lord’s be¬ 
longs to the saints also, therefore they (Puritans) had a 
right to drive out the savages and take their lands f ac¬ 
cordingly they did. The same spirit is literally carried out 
there in the tithe gathering; these “saints” have a claim 
on what belongs to God, and consequently the law cove¬ 
nant belonging to the Jewish priest, under Moses, is 
handed over to them, and whatever barbarian, Scythian, 


OF IRELAND. 


417 


Jebusite or Perizzite, dwells in the land, must to them pay 
tribute. The magistrates who collect this tribute some¬ 
times do it in the face of spades and pitchforks, and stock¬ 
ings full of stones, which the brave women hurl; but 
having the “ inner man” well strengthened, by both law 
and government gospel, they generally escape with the 
booty. These ludicrous and shameful scenes have mea¬ 
surably abated since the tithes are gathered in a form 
not quite so tangible, by merging them in or behind the 
landlord’s tax, who puts this ministerial “tenth” into an 
advanced rent on the tenant; but “ murder will out,” 
and the blow is felt as severely, and by many traced as 
clearly, as when the hand was more tangible. In the 
summer of 1848, in the city of Cork, one man belonging 
to the Society of Friends had a good set of chairs taken, 
which the owner affirmed was but a repetition of the 
same proceedings, the Church collectors having a peculiar 
fancy for his chairs; they had taken many sets in yearly 
succession. Now while all this is in progress in that 
country, talk not so loudly of popish heresy being the 
root of all the evil there. First, make the gospel tree, 
which was planted 1800 years ago, on the Mount of 
Olives, bear a little fruit, pluck a few fresh boughs from 
ics neglected branches, and kindly present them to these 
popish seared consciences, and see and mark well the 
result. If the book called the Bible had been kept 
entirely out of sight, and its principles been fully exem¬ 
plified in deed as well as in word, there can scarcely be a 
doubt, but the prejudice which now exists against it 
would never have been known; and had the priests 
thundered their anathemas either from the confession 
box or the altar, louder and longer against reading or 
believino- it, many of them would have defied all bulls 
of excommunication, as well as all purgatorial burn¬ 
ings, and have made their acquaintance with its pages. 
When any of these extortions are practised, the ready 
response is, “ This comes from the blessed book they le 
taichin’ and praichin’.” It is the substance that is want¬ 
ing, not the shadow. If popery have concealed Christ 
behind the Virgin, with her long retinue of sainted 

t 3 


418 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


fathers and maids of honour, in the persons of St. 
Bridgets, whose microscopic eyes can see him any clearer 
through mitred bishops and surpliced gownsmen, fat¬ 
tened on the gatherings of the harvests of the poor, and 
scanty savings of the widow and fatherless. If the 
incense from a Homan censer obscure the clear light of 
the Sun of Righteousness, think not to blow it away by 
the breath of alcohol, their smoke will only mingle 
together, and make the cloud still thicker. Some paste 
more adhesive than “stirabout,” and some stimulus 
more abiding than “soup,” will be required to keep the 
scrutinizing Paddy rooted and grounded in a new faith, 
whose fresh lessons are only, “Be patient, love, while 
I beat you, in true genteel and ‘royal style.’” The 
Celt can quickly discern clean hands; and though his 
own may be filthy, yet he will content himself with the 
“holy water” of his own church to cleanse them, while 
he sees his neighbours of the protestant faith a little 
too smutty. 

While speaking thus of proselytism, and the errors of 
the church, the soup-shops should not be cast into entire 
contempt; for though they may, and undoubtedly have 
been, used for bribery there, yet they have been used for 
better purposes, and by the protestant church too. The 
missionary stations in Dingle and Achill, so far as they 
adhered to their professed object in the beginning, which 
was partly to provide a retreat from persecution, and give 
labour as far as was practicable to those who wished to 
renounce popery, did well. But have they acted entirely 
in accordance with these principles. Let the fruits be the 
judges. That there are real God-fearing Christians in those 
churches must be believed, but this is not the question. 
Were most of them made so by going there, or had 
they not been taught of the Holy Spirit before entering 
them ? The heaven-taught Christian in Ireland in many 
places is driven to great straits to find a fold where the 
flock are fed with the true bread, prepared by those who 
have really come out of the world, and they necessarily 
unite with any, where they can find a home. The 
Roman catholic who turns to God with full purpose of 


OF IRELAND. 


410 


heart, and has been really born of the Spirit, is indeed 
a spiritual Christian ; he drinks deeply at the Fountain¬ 
head, and often exceeds those who had been in the path 
with the scriptures in their hands for years. One pres- 
byterian clergyman observed, “ we must take large strides 
to keep up with them.” 

I am not expecting, neither asking one pound of 
money, one good dinner, nor one blessing, for these 
unsavoury statements, but they are the common sense 
observation of four years, practical experience among 
that strangely situated people, who have been the gazing- 
stock of the world for so many ages; and though the 
remark of a Roman catholic barrister, in the county of 
Mayo, to his priest, was somewhat severe, yet it might 
be well for the clergy of all denominations to look at it, 
and inquire whether they have not given cause for the 
people to feel, that the benefits which have flowed from 
their ministrations are not on the whole a poor equivalent 
for the money which has been paid to them, and for the 
honour which has been bestowed upon their reverences. 

This barrister observed that his occupation had led 
him to an acquaintance with the doings of the clergy of 
every denomination in Ireland j and he had settled on 
the firm belief, that if every one of all classes, priests, 
protestants, and dissenters, were put into a ship and 
driven out to sea, and the ship scuttled, it would be 
better for Ireland than it then was. “ Leave every man,” 
he added, “ to take care of his own soul, without being 
led hither and thither, by men who worked either for 
money or party, or for both, and they would be in a 
better condition than they were at present. The con¬ 
founded priest uttered not one syllable in reply. It is 
somewhat amusing to a listener, who belongs to no one of 
them, to be present on any annual celebration of these 
clergymen, and hear the reformations going on under 
their management. 

The Established Church astonishes you with confir¬ 
mations and the increase of communicants, and if the 
speaker be a missionary, why a few thousand pounds 
would bring half of popish Ireland into his net—could 


420 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


he build more cottages and dig more drains, mountain 
and bog for many a mile would be blossoming like the 
rose, and crooked things be made straight among the 
benighted catholics, and Ireland in the Lord’s time be a 
habitation for the righteous to dwell in. The number 
of converts from popery astonishes the credulous hearers, 
and the self-denials and persecutions of the missionaries 
are second to none but Peter’s or Paul’s. 

Next come the Presbyterians. They are a numerous, 
well-disciplined band, understanding precisely the tactics 
of their creed, and give you to understand that they are the 
true light that might lighten every man that cometh into 
Ireland. They have lengthened their cords and strength¬ 
ened their stakes ; and while many yet desire the “ leeks 
and garlics” growing in a government hot-house; yet 
some have nobly testified against making a hodge-podge 
church of Christ and mammon. They are not idlers, 
and their sabbath-schools train their children in the 
true faith of Presbyterianism, as faithfully as does the 
Romish priest in his. They, like the Established Church, 
feel that the mammoth incubus that is weighing the 
godly of Ireland down, is the Romish church, and 
though they acknowledge that a state church is not 
precisely the best thing, yet that is not the mountain, 
but yet would gladly have it removed, if by rooting up 
these tares the wheat should not be rooted up also ; for 
if government should let go its hold, and say, “ stand on 
your own foundation, or stand not at all,” they might 
be shaken in the fearful crash. The regium donum still 
lingers there, and if tithes should slip, why not draw 
after them this “royal gift?” Many are good preachers 
and eloquent platform speakers; some have advanced 
into the free air of anti-slavery principles, and an iso¬ 
lated one, here and there, may not approve of the 
practice of war ; but few comparatively have abandoned 
the use of the good creature, in moderation, and doubt¬ 
less, they are fated to see more and suffer more, and dig 
deeper into their own hearts before they will believe, 
but that “wisdom will die with them.” 

The Methodists have a standing in numbers among 


OF IRELAND. 


421 


tlio ianks of Bible-christians, and their zeal lias provoked 
many. They pray on, and they sing on, through thick 
and through thin ; they tell you that Methodism is the 
only salvo, and can never praise God enough that they 
stepped into her ranks. John Wesley echoes and re¬ 
echoes with loud amens, wherever there is a chapel to 
eulogise his name. They too abhor the “ beast,” and have 
blunted, if not plucked, some of his horns ; but not 
being quite so orthodox in the eyes of their more Calvin- 
istic brethren, they go more on their “own hook,” working- 
in their own way, than the two first named. Though it 
is to be feared they are drinking in and conforming 
more to the world than formerly, yet they keep well in 
their own ranks, and let the world rock to and fro, 
their motto is onward ; they are not so prone to seek 
shelter from a storm in time of trouble, and to run over 
to the enemy till the danger is over, as some who are 
more in search of popularity, more timid and less self- 
denying. They are so undoubting in the truth of what 
they profess, that they spend less time in securing props 
to keep up their fabric ; and consequently, they have 
more space for preaching Christ. Those catholics who 
are not afraid of entering into any chapel but their own, 
are fond of listening to the enthusiastic manner of 
preaching which they find there, and are often seen 
standing about the doors of a chapel, with great rever¬ 
ence ; occasionally some are drawn in by the gospel, and 
remain faithful to Christ. 

The Independents are a worthy class, and have unos¬ 
tentatiously made a good impression on the minds of 
the humbler portion of the inhabitants. Their Bible 
readers have in general been men of untiring faithful¬ 
ness, and by kindness have gained access to the hearts 
of the peasantry, who listen to the reading of the Scrip¬ 
tures, without that opposition which must follow where 
a harsh course and abuse to the priests are manifested. 
One of their readers remarked, that for more than twenty 
years he had visited the cabins, read the Scriptures, and 
held up Christ to them as the sinner’s friend, and in no 
one case had he been rejected. Some of them speak and 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 




read Irish, which always gains access to the heart. The 
Independents in respect to government aid, reject all 
regium donums, and they stand on a firmer rock, than 
an earthly royal treasure. They have.funds gratuitously 
supplied by their own church, and their missionaries and 
Bible readers are mostly supported from them. Their 
pastors are men in general of plain common sense, know¬ 
ing how to adapt themselves and their preaching to the 
masses ; and had they more of a proselyting spirit, would 
certainly make more noise, more money, and add more 
stony-ground hearers to their number. 

The Baptists, humble in number as they are, should 
not be left out; they make their way, slowly, and softly, 
and show much patience in labouring in the destitute 
parts. Their flocks are increasing, and like the sta¬ 
tion at Ballina, many of their number are from the 
Romish church. These, when they put on Christ by a 
new baptism, as they call immersion, the burial with 
him into his death, arise and walk in newness of life, 
and in general remain stedfast in their profession. It is 
a fact, which should be more noticed among all these 
denominations, that where Christ is the most faithfully 
preached, error falls silenced, without that struggle of 
argument to maintain its hold, as when some object 
of contempt is held up to ridicule, or to shun ; all the 
enemies’ forces are then rallied to the rescue, and often 
the conqueror in argument is the force most weakened 
in the best part. 

The Plymouth Brethren, or Bible Christians as they 
may call themselves, have a numerous body in Dublin, 
and worship Christ in a manner distinct from either 
which have been named. Acknowledging no head but 
Christ, they have no ministers to support, and like the 
Apostles’ churches, have all things in common so far as 
this—as when one member suffers, all suffer with it; 
and accordingly none are left in want. They were very 
active in the famine, working efficiently, feeding, and 
clothing many ; and the sabbath-school in which Christ 
and only Christ w r as taught, was numerously attended 
by the poor, who were fed and clothed, not as a bribe. 


OF IRELAND. 


423 


but as an act of Christian charity, clue to the poor. 
“ Come, and we will tell you of Christ,” was the invita¬ 
tion, and not come and join us, and we will feed you. 

The Unitarians in Ireland are not numerous, but 
generally wealthy, intelligent, and benevolent. They 
did much in the famine to ameliorate the state of suffer¬ 
ing, and to their honour they were many of them tee¬ 
totalers. Their doctrine to the catholic is more incom¬ 
prehensible than any of the “ heresies” which they meet; 
for, beside rejecting the mother, they say they reject the 
Son likewise, and have neither Intercessor nor Saviour ; 
and if they were disposed to proselyte, the catholic chapels 
would not be the “shops” in which to set up their “stir¬ 
about boilers.” The Roman catholics are peculiarly dis¬ 
tinct in one noble practice, from all other professed Chris¬ 
tians we meet. They will not in the least gape after, nor 
succumb to any man’s religion, because he is great and 
honourable, though they will crouch and call him “ yer 
honour” in matters of this world ; but where their reli¬ 
gious faith is concerned, they call no man master. The 
Unitarians, therefore, collect into their ranks such as, 
being whole, need no physician, and the lamentation 
or confession seldom goes up of being “ miserable sin¬ 
ners” and going “astray like lost sheep.” They are 
certainly a people in their influence over others, espe¬ 
cially the lower classes, less to be dreaded than those 
who hold the truth in unrighteousness.” The heresy of 
needing no atonement by an infinite God, is more 
shunned than sought after, by all such as have been led 
to believe that man is in a lost state ; for if he is lost, and 
finds himself so, he seeks to be found ; but if no one is in 
the way sufficient to lead him, how is he bettered by the 
inquiry ? On the other side, those who hold the truth 
in unrighteousness, in other words, who bear no fruit, 
have not the power of it, and when the letter only is 
understood, he who professes Christ and knows him not 
in a fellowship of his sufferings, and a resurrection of 
life, is a more dangerous lure to the inquirer; for, in 
the first case, if there is no Saviour all powerful, there 
is nothing to embrace ; but if there is one in word and 


424 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


not in deed, lie is more to be dreaded than none at all, a 
false God is worse than none. 

There is a society of Moravians, and it would be 
superfluous to say anything of them, they are so well 
known for their simplicity, sobriety, retirement, and 
good order, that they walk more unseen than any deno¬ 
mination whatever. They never say, “ Come and see my 
zeal for the Lord.” The Roman catholics look upon 
them somewhat as they do upon the Society of Friends— 
a second “ blessed people,” wondering what the religion 
must be. 

The Society of Friends in Ireland, stand out as they 
do in other places, distinct. They meddle but little in 
the politics of the world around them; whatever govern¬ 
ment they may be under, they sit quietly and let the 
world rock on. A Yearly Meeting of that denomination 
is most interesting in Ireland than elsewhere, on one 
account, because they are entirely free from vain boast¬ 
ing and whining tales of persecution, or the great growth 
of their denomination, the downfal of error before their 
preaching, Ac. You have solemn silence, or you have 
something uttered unvarnished with rhetorical flourishes 
or borrowed extracts from House of Commons or House of 
Lords. Their extracts are borrowed from the Holy 
Scriptures, their prayers are addressed to the Majesty of 
Lleaven, and not to men, they speak as if in His presence, 
they sit as if in His presence, and if you are not parti¬ 
cularly edified, you are solemnized, your heart if not 
melted is softened, and you go away feeling, that for an 
hour or more you have been shut from a noisy, empty, 
gabbling world, from a party church which has not sti¬ 
mulated you to kill any priest, or pull down any chapel 
or convent. You feel to inquire, am I right ? Is all 
well within % Have / the Spirit of Christ i if not I am 
none of His. I have never heard that any Roman 
catholic has ever turned to that Society in Ireland; but 
if they had proselyting agents in the field they would 
have their share, or if they had even that outward show 
in their meeting-houses, which takes away all reserve 
from the stranger, and gives him to feel that the place is 


OF IKELAND. 


425 


for all, many would be induced, to go in, that now stay 
away. 

W hen stopping in Cork, great surprise w r as expressed, 
even by some dissenters, that I should take such liberties 
as to go to a place of worship where none were 
wished to attend but their own ; and the catholics sup¬ 
posed that none could be allowed to enter, but such 
as have on the “ particular dress.” The caution of these 
people in the time of the famine, to avoid the appearance 
of proselytising, was carried to an extent almost unpa¬ 
ralleled. It was said that a ministering Friend from 
England, who had been in the habit of attending or 
holding a meeting in the w r est part of Ireland when he 
visited them, declined doing so ; in the year 1847, when 
in the same place, lest it should be construed as a desire 
to make converts by the liberality which his Society 
■were shewing. 

The Catholics in Ireland are the catholics everywhere 
in some respects, in others, they may have some shades of 
difference. Having always been placed under restrictions 
they could not always appear free ; and yet when these 
restrictions have been removed they have not taken 
undue advantage, as their enemies supposed they would. 
The removal of the penal laws did not make them 
insolent, but thankful that they again had the pros¬ 
pect of being ranked among the human family as human 
beings. That cord of fear by which they have been long- 
held is loosening, and they take liberties, that at times 
causes the priest to say that they are quite beyond his 
control, and he is often put down at the altar—that 
most sacred place, when he lays restrictions which are 
not congenial. Their superstitions too are vanishing; 
fairies and banshees have not the hold on the imagina¬ 
tion as in former days; the holy w^ells, and bushes 
covered with rags and strings which had been dipped in 
the waters, to wash the believing diseased one, are now 
disappearing. This practice is not confined to the 
catholics, either in Ireland or England, being practised 
in the latter place to some extent now r ; but there is still 
a most fearful practice in the west part of Ireland, which 
a priest related in my hearing, and comforted our horror 


426 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


by saying, that he had caned the man most faithfully 
that morning, and it would never be repeated. The 
practice has been in use for ages, and is called the “Test 
of the Skull.” It is this,—when a person is suspected 
of crime he is placed kneeling, and made to swear over 
the Bible that he is innocent, and then laying his hand 
on the skull, he invokes heaven that the sins of the 
person that owned that skull in life, with those of the 
seventh generations before and after him, might be visited 
on his head if he were guilty, and if this swearing was 
false, the skull -was to haunt him incessantly day and 
night, to the end of his life. This horrid practice is so 
loudly spoken against, that it is performed with the 
greatest secrecy when it is done. It has extorted many 
a confession that nothing else would do, and is found a 
very useful experiment in incorrigible cases. The skull 
used is always the skull of the father, if the father be 
dead, which makes it more terrific to the suspected one. 

Superstitions of these kinds are prevalent more upon 
the sea-coasts and in the mountains, Avhere the inhabi¬ 
tants are secluded from much intercourse; and sitting 
in their dark cabins, or climbing the crags upon the 
lofty mountains or cliffs hanging over the sea, they hear 
the constant roar of old ocean or the -hollow groaning of 
the wind, as it winds through the defiles and caves ; and 
having no intelligent intercourse and no books, they con¬ 
jure up all that imagination is capable of doing, and 
when it is conjured up and brought a few times before 
the mind, it is reality which is difficult to efface. Their 
fairy superstitions are not frightful, and go to show 
a very poetic turn, of which the mind of the Celt 
is quite capable. Fairies are always pretty, “light 
on the fut,” and light on the wing, are pleasant and 
playful, particularly fond of children and babies, and 
often exchange them when the mother is gone or asleep, 
and many times she never knows the difference; fre¬ 
quently she has been heard to complain that a sicklier 
child has been put in her child’s place, and sometimes 
blue eyes have been changed for grey. They never like 
to displease one of these gentry, lest she should be dis- 


OF IRELAND. 


427 


posed to kill or injure the child. I found these ideas 
still lingering among the mountains, where some of them 
would not be willing to leave off red petticoats, because 
they kept the fairies from doing any little mischief which 
otherwise they might do. The “ Angel’s Whisper,” too, 
has a foundation in real truth. It has long been sup¬ 
posed that a sleeping infant hears some pleasant thing 
whispered in its ear by the ministering angel that is 
always hovering near; and it is noticeable that the 
superstitions of the peasantry are more poetical than 
frightful, and they generally turn all supernatural ap¬ 
pearances to a favourable account. But the famine 
changed their poetical romance into such fearful realities 
that no time was left to bestow on imagination. 

I have regretted since leaving, that more pains had 
not been taken to procure some of the poetical ideas, in 
the songs made for the occasion by nurses, where, in the 
old lordly Irish families on the sea-coast, they have lived 
and died in the same house, and amused each succeeding 
child with poetry of their own imagination, and expressed 
in their own way, according to the age and station of the 
child; the colour of its hair, eyes, and skin, generally 
being a part of the song. 

I found one of these useful appendages in an ancient 
family on the western coast, who had grown grey in their 
service, and was then singing feebly her old songs to 
another rising generation ; but the daughter said they 
had lest the spirit which they possessed when she was 
rocked in her arms, and from her she had entertained 
the most favourable opinion of the fairies, as she never 
used them as more refined nurses do the sweeps and 
ghosts, to frighten children into obedience, but more like 
kind angels, sent to minister to their little wants. She 
gave me a specimen of one song which she had often 
heard sung to herself, as well as to her younger brothers 
and sisters. I retained a few words of it, which sounded 
peculiarly poetical, its language seemed like the song 
of Solomon’s, of the “young roe or hart on the mountains 
of Bether. ” 

“ When the light wing of the fairy shall brush the 


428 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


pearl bead from the heath, the quick fut of my vour- 
neen shall away over mountain and glen the chorus, 
“shall away, shall away,” generally produced the desired 
effect, sometimes would be added “ yes, shall away, and 
the breath of the morning shall blow her fair hair,” or 
other language varied to suit the occasion. 

These habits are found mostly in the sequestered 
places, where little or no mixture with an artificial 
world, made up of fashions which perish with the using, 
have served to dim the beauties of nature; and when 
any of these unsophisticated mountain peasants are 
introduced into what is falsely called refined life, they 
become ashamed of these “vulgar” thoughts and ex¬ 
pressions, as they suppose, never hearing them used by 
the genteel, and generally they are eclipsed, if not lost, 
by intercourse with, or by being servants to the town and 
city classes. The thought has been suggested that what 
are called “ Irish blunders” proceed in a measure from 
the change which is attempted from low untutored life 
into a more intelligent and refined one. They do not 
obtain the book-learned ideas and phrases correctly ; and 
leaving nature they lose sight of her so much, that they 
cannot and dare not scarcely use her name, or call after 
her, even when they know they have not so good a guide. 
The famine will work out and bring up a new state of 
things among all classes there; but it is much to be 
scrupled, whether every portion of that people would on all 
accounts be bettered with a greater intercourse with other 
nations, unless this intercourse can be more untrammelled 
by the out-of-the-way fooleries, which many of the 
higher classes practice; for the Irish, whether unlike 
all others I do not pretend in this particular, but they 
do not become less savage and impetuous by a superficial, 
and what may be termed common, education. The 
labouring classes in towns and villages are less courteous, 
less humane, and more impetuous, than in remote moun¬ 
tains. The mountain peasants seldom emigrate, like 
others, and hence other countries cannot know the real 
character of that people, but by going into these obscure 
places and mingling with them. 


OF IRELAND. 


429 


CHAPTER XXII. 

“ Shall I sec thee no more, thou lov’d land of sorrow.” 

LAST LOOK OF IRELAND, AND THE SUMMING UP. 

The time had come when the last long adieu must be 
taken of a people and country, where four years and 
four months had been passed, and it would be impossible 
to put the last penciling upon a picture like this, and not 
pause before laying it aside, and look again at its “Lights 
and Shades” as a whole. In doing so, the task is more 
painful than was the first labour,—First, because these 
“Lights and Shades” are imperfectly drawn ; and second, 
because no future touch of the artist, however badly exe¬ 
cuted, can be put on ; what is “written” is “ written,” and 
what is done is done for ever. My feet shall never again 
make their untried way through some dark glen, or 
wade through a miry bog, or climb some slippery crag 
to reach the isolated mud cabin, and hear the kind “ God 
save ye kindly, lady; come in, come in, ye must be 
wairy.” Never again can the sweet words of eternal life 
be read to the listening way-side peasant, when he is 
breaking stones, or walking by the way; never will the 
potatoe be shared with the family group around the 
basket, or the bundle of straw be unbound and spread for 
my couch. Never will the nominal professor, who learned 
his Christ through respectability , without even the shadow 
of a cross, again coolly say, “ We do not understand your 
object, and do you go into the miserable cabins among 
the lower orderand never, oh never! again will the 
ghastly stare of the starving idiot meet me upon the 
lonely mountains I have trod; never again will the 
emaciated fingers of a starving child be linked in sup¬ 
plication for a “bit of bread,” as I pass in the busy 
street; though the painful visions will for ever haunt 
me, yet the privilege to relieve will never again be mine 
in ’ that land of sorrow. It is over. Llave I acted 
plainly ? —have I spoken plainly ? —have I written 
plainly ? This is all right,—for this no apology is made. 


430 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


But liave all these plain actions, plain speakings, and 
plain writings, been performed with an eye single to the 
glory of God % If so, all is as it should be, if not “ Mene, 
Tekel” must be written. 

These pages speak plainly of Clergymen , of Landlords , 
of Relief Officers, of the waste of distributions, and of 
Drinking Habits. Are these things so ? Gladly should 
I be to know, that in all these statements a wrong judg¬ 
ment has been formed, and that they have been and are 
misrepresented. Yes, let me be proved even a prejudiced 
writer, an unjust writer, a partial writer, rather than 
that these things should be living acting truths. But 
alas ! Ireland tells her own story, and every stranger 
reads it. 

The landlords have a heavy burden, and if the burden 
cannot be removed, it is right that they should be heard. 
Even if by their own neglect or unskilfulness they are 
now where they feel the wave rolling over them, and 
this wave is like to swallow them entirely, what philan¬ 
thropist would not throw out the life-boat and take them 
to land ? If they are not good steersmen, then place 
them not again at the helm; if they neither understand 
the laws of navigation, nor the duties of captains to the 
crew, assign them a place where with less power they can 
act without injuring the helpless, till they learn lessons 
of wisdom from past pages of wrecklessness and thought¬ 
less improvidence. And while God says, “ What measure 
ye mete shall be measured to you again,” yet who shall 
presume to deal out this promise, nor let one retaliating 
lisp be encouraged to clothe the oppressive or careless 
landlord in like rags that his tenants have worn. Give him 
a second coat, and though his hands may not be adorned 
with rings, yet dress him in clean garments, and put 
shoes upon his feet. If you give him not the “ fatted 
calf,” yet feed him not on the one root which his scanty 
pay has compelled the sower and reaper of his fields to 
eat, strip him not of the last vestige that his habitation 
may possess of decency and comfort, and shut him not 
in the walls of a workhouse, to lie down and rise up, go 
out and come in, at some surly master’s bidding. Let 


OF IRELAND. 


431 


him walk among men, as a man breathing free air on 
God’s free earth that he has freely “ given to the chil¬ 
dren of men.” Say not to him, when you see that his 
day has already come, “ Ah! I told you so.” Conscience, 
if he have any, will tell him that , and if he have not any, 
you cannot furnish him with one. There are landlords in 
Ireland who have measurably rendered what is “ just and 
equal,” if not wholly so. There are Crawfords and Hills, 
who have done nobly and outlived the storm, and there 
are many others, who like them have acted well, hut 
could not, and have not outlived it. In one crumbling 
mass, they and their tenants are looking in despair on 
each other without cause or disposition to recriminate, 
and when they part, it is like the separation of kindly 
members of one family, united by one common interest. 
These are some of the bright spots, green and fresh, which 
still look out upon that stricken country, and leave a 
little hope that lingering mercy may yet return and bless 
her with the blessing that adds no sorrow. 

The minister too—shall his sacred name and calling 
be on the tongue and pen of every wayfaring traveller 
who may chance to pass through his parish, and tarry 
but for a night—who may hear but a passing sermon, 
and that a good one too, and hasten away and denounce 
him a hireling or unfaithful? Let candour, courtesy and 
Christianity forbid it. 

The watchmen on Ireland’s wall have had a stormy, 
bleak night to guard the city, and amid the roar of 
tumultuous tempests have scarcely known how to guide 
or to warn the lost traveller into a safe shelter—they 
may have seen danger through a false glare —they may 
have warned when no danger was nigh, and they may 
have wrapped their robes about them, and hid from an 
enemy when they were the only leaders that could have 
led to victory. Some have split on the fatal rock—love 
of gain ; others are ensnared by the deceitful flattering 
word “ respectability .” This above all others seems to 
be the hobby; nor is it confined to the Established 
Church, they as a body are so well paid and honoured, 
that they have less need to keep up a struggle respect- 


432 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


ing the name, as most of them (the curates excepted) 
can and do hang out the indisputable sign—a carriage, 
and its accompaniments ; and if the character of such an 
one he inquired after, however he may live, and how 
far removed from the vital principles of the gospel he 
may be, if not among the vilest,“ Oh! he is very respectable; 
if you should see his gardens, and grounds, and carriage, 
and then his glebe-house, and his wife and daughters— 
they’re the ladies.” The dissenting classes, who profess by 
their very dissenting , that they believe more fully that 
the regenerating spirit of the gospel calls for newness of 
life, and nonconformity to the world; yet to induce the 
world to follow them, to become members of their body, 
they must throw out the bait of “ respectability to keep 
up an influence which conformity to the world alone can 
do : that part of the legacy which Christ left, they ac¬ 
knowledge is a good one when applied to real martyrdom. 
When the disciples were told that if they have hated me, 
they will hate you also, and that they must “ rejoice and 
be exceeding glad,” when all manner of evil should be 
said of them, for his sake; but for disciples in the 
nineteenth century the constitution of things is changed, 
and as a “ good name/’ the wise man tells us, “ is better 
than precious ointment,” this “ good name” must be ob¬ 
tained, even though a few circumstantials in the Chris¬ 
tian creed should be modestly suspended. This “ good 
name” is the last thing that the professed Christian will 
leave in the hands of Christ; he will entrust him often 
with his property, his indefatigable labours, and even 
life itself; but his reputation , ah ! his reputation is too 
sacred to go out of his hands ; and mark ! this reputation 
is one acquired according to the customs of the world. 
Here is the fatal split, here it is, where he who purchases 
this article, purchases it at the expense of that vitality, 
that indeiviling principle of holiness, which, if nurtured 
and kept alive, by walking in the liberty of Christ, will 
go on from one degree of grace and glory, till the perfect 
man in Christ is attained. 

The dissenting Christians of Ireland, many of them, 
are wealthy enough to be respectable; and though they 


OF IRELAND. 


433 


are not in general as high as their “Established” 
brethren; yet those who have a regium donum can 
figure somewhat genteelly, and if they do not attain 
to the highest notch they do what they can ; if they 
cannot keep a coach and four, they would not be inclined 
to ride meek and lowly, as their Master did through 
the streets of Jerusalem, and will get the best carriage 
their means will allow. 

Now respectability is not to he despised; but seeking 
it at the expense of that humility, that condescending 
to men of low estate, that not only giving to the poor^ 
but doing for the poor, and doing too at the expense of 
our own ease, and in face and eyes of the customs of 
a God-hating world, is reprehensible, and wholly and 
entirely aside from the precepts and examples of Christ 
and his followers; and though to the blameworthy this 
may appear severe, because true, yet I cannot be a faithful 
recorder of what I saw and experienced in Ireland, 
without leaving this testimony, which I expect to meet 
at the judgment, that a proud worldly respectable Chris¬ 
tianity is th q first great deep evil that keeps that country 
in a virtual bondage, from which she never will escape, 
till the evil be removed. The awful gulf which is 
placed between the higher and “ lower orders” there, is as 
great between professed Christians and the world, as be¬ 
tween the estated gentleman or titled lord, who make 
no pretensions, and in many cases much greater. There 
are lords, sirs , and esquires in Ireland, who would sooner 
admit a bare-foot into their back-door and hear his 
tale of woe, than would many of the dissenting classes, 
of so-called followers of the meek and lowly Jesus. 
Why is it so % Simply this, not because these lords and 
gentlemen were Christians, but because they were not in 
danger of losing a standing which a worldly government 
had given them, by so doing,' while the dissenter, a step 
lower in worldly honour, without sufficient vital piety 
to fall back upon, must keep the respectable standing 
that he had, or he was lost for ever. And before closing 
these pages, duty requires to correct statements which 
have been made by many of the misjudging class of Irish 

u 


434 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


who read the first volume, and have said that I had no 
opportunity to give a true account of the character of 
the people there, because I mingled with none but the 
lower classes—I give the following illustrations :—This 
is a mistake wholly and entirely. I did not make long 
visits with the higher orders except in few cases, not be¬ 
cause I was not treated with all the courtesy and atten¬ 
tion that vanity would require by some of these, but 
because my message was to the poor; and the attentions 
of the great were not recorded for many reasons, among 
which, some of the most prominent are, that many such 
persons do not wish to read their names on the random 
pages of an unpretending tourist, or a vain smattering 
one ; and if their vanity could be fed the greater 
caution should be used to withhold flattery, for they 
are in no need of compliments; and beside, they have 
only done what they could easily do without sacrifice, 
and are required by the common claims of civility to 
strangers, as well as by the higher requirements of the 
gospel to do. And, again, what traveller who has whirled 
through that island on a coach, and who, in his own 
country was scarcely known, beyond his humble seat 
in the church or chapel where he was wont to sit, but 
has carefully wrapped a complimentary card, given by 
a titled gentleman, to a dinner, to show to his family 
to the third, and probably fourth generation, of the great 
honour bestowed on him. And in conclusion, on this 
part of the subject, let it be said, that access was gained 
to every class of people in Ireland, some by “ hook and 
by crook,” and others by an “abundant entrance,” and 
by a greater part of them was I treated with more cour¬ 
tesy than by those a notch or two below, in worldly 
standing. 

Would it do good, and would room permit, many 
amusing things might be related, of the sudden transi¬ 
tions my visit and object to the country went through, 
from the “ flattering unction,” to the dark-frowning sus¬ 
picion, by the same persons, in the space of a few weeks. 
To illustrate , sometimes a pioneer, in the shape of a 
letter would be sent to a minister of this class, perhaps 


OF IRELAND. 


435 


by one wlio was a step in advance in tbe scale of re¬ 
spectability, the drawing-room would be thrown open, 
and the warmest reception given, and “ we are very 
happy to have it in our way to show attention to one, 
who has sacrificed so much; and what can we do for 
you ?” &c., &c.,— tout ensemble , it was just as it should be, 
and “ when you return, remember we have a bed, and 
all in waiting for strangers, and you are not to pass us.” 
Calling on my return, the gentleman must go out—the 
lady, perhaps, was already “ out,” or “ engaged.” In a few 
weeks, a most varnished apology, in real “ Blarny” style, 
would be sent, “ We did not know who it was exactly, 
till since you last called, Mr. So-and-so, my friend, has 
informed us who you are, and we have had so many 
strangers that are not of the right stamp, that it is 
necessary to be careful,” &c. Now, the mistake seemed 
to be here, these people had by some strange perversion, 
misapplied this principle of carefulness, which the 
apostle enjoins, who says, “be not forgetful to entertain 
strangers,” &c., not be careful that you are not deceived 
by them. These cases were so usual that they must be 
inserted as the true character of the people, as a whole, 
in that middle station of the “ respectables and they are 
not recorded as persecutions, they were a useful pass¬ 
port to the causes of some of the barriers existing there, 
in the way of bettering that unhappy people. They 
were a kind of skeleton-key, at least, to unlock the 
“ outer court” of the inner sanctuary of the heart, it 
showed, that if the common courtesies of life were so little 
understood by those who not only had the books of the 
schools in their heads, but professedly the “ Book of 
books” in their hearts, which they were ordained to 
teach others, that they required some faithful apostle to 
“ teach them the way of God more perfectly.” I was 
confirmed in this opinion of their proud bearing, as 
being a fixed habit, by circumstantial evidence, which 
sometimes is the best. Again, and again, has some kind- 
hearted peasant directed me to the gate of one of those 
“ nice gentlemen, or ladies, ’ urging as an inducement, 
that they had heard of me, and wanted much to see the 


43G 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


66 American woman/’ and not unfrequently slie would 
accompany me, and while I tarried at the front, she 
would go to the back-door, to tell the servant, that she 
had brought the “ lady,” and she must acquaint her 
mistress. When the refusal came, and the peasant was 
interrogated, why she should suppose an admission 
could be gained to a family of their pretensions, the 
simple-spontaneous answer would always be in words 
like these : “ Because lady, yer a decent looking body, 
and of their faith, or I shouldn’t took ye there, and ye 
arn’t poor, if ye do walk, and sure they’d be proud to 
spake to the lady like ye.” “ The bare-foot or the poor 
parson don’t cross that gate, only the gentry ma’am,” im¬ 
plied that the poor well understood, that these Christian 
gentry had a bridge over which none but the respectable 
must pass, and this they really supposed was a part and 
parcel of the religion which the bible taught, for, to the 
honour of the catholics, this was not their practice, at least 
towards me, even in the highest stations of life. And 
among the dissenters, there were noble exceptions ; when¬ 
ever a bible-reader was found—with but solitary speci¬ 
mens here and there—they were accessible, hospitable, 
and many of them deeply imbued with the principles 
of the gospel. Accommodating themselves as they must 
and do to the lowest classes, they reach the main-spring 
of the heart, and when they take spiritual weapons ex¬ 
clusively, they find a soil where good seed can be sown, 
and where it has sprung up to everlasting life. Here 
emphatically was exemplified the difference between a 
true and living faith, which works by love, and a dead 
one which works by party—“ Come,” said a humble poor 
catholic, “and I’ll shew ye the man : there is not a cabin 
in the parish, but his blessed feet have crawsed, and it’s 
he that gives the plain raidin’, and discourses us so 
kindly, and I’ll go in with ye to his cottage, and shew 
ye the mistress.” They were never afraid to go in with 
me to one of these houses, and it would be very difficult 
to make many of these peasants believe that the bible, 
which these “ blessed men was tachin’,” was the same 
translation as that of the upper classes. These men do 


OF IRELAND. 


437 


w hat the superficial age would call the dog-work of the 
church— the work which some, who hold a higher station 
in it, would not stoop to do, but it is the very work, the 
work which, as an individual, from individual observa¬ 
tion, I venture to say is the best work done in Ireland, 
and at the last account, when the “ pearls” are made up, 
“ ”W ell done good and faithful servant,” will be said to 
many who now are scantily rewarded either by money 
or honours of those who have sent them there. 

They are doing Christ! s ivork, to the same class of people, 
and in the same way that He did it. 

The old hackneyed story of popery in Ireland has been 
so turned and twisted that every side has been seen— 
nothing new can be said about it. There it stands, its 
principles are well known, its superstitions and perse¬ 
cuting character, its idolatries, and all its trimming and 
trappings are the same in essence, as when Queen 
Elizabeth put her anathemas forth against its creeds 
and practice; and with all her errors she maintains a 
few principles and practices which would be well for her 
more bible neighbours to imitate. Her great ones are 
more accessible ; the poor of their own class, or of any 
other, are not kept at such an awful distance; the 
stranger is seldom frowned coolly from their door ; to 
them there appears to be a sacreclness in the very word 
with which they would not trifle ; the question is not, 
is he or she “respectable/’ but a stranger; if so then 
hospitality must be used without grudging. In the 
mountains, and sea-coast parts, it has ever been the 
custom to set the cabin door open at night, and keep 
up a fire on the hearth, that the way-faring man, and the 
lone stranger, should he be benighted, could see by the 
light that there is a welcome for him, and if they have 
but one bed, the family get up and give it to the stranger, 
sitting up, and having the fire kept bright through the 
night. This has been done for me, without knowing or 
asking whether I was . Turk or Christian; and were I 
again to walk over that country, and be out at night¬ 
fall in storm and peril, as has been my lot, and come in 
sight of two castle-towers, one a Roman and the other a 

u 2 


438 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


protestant owner; and were the former a mile beyond, 
my difficult way would be made to that, knowing that 
when the porter should tell the master a stranger was 
at the gate, he w'ould say, “Welcome the stranger in 
for the night, or from the storm.” The protestant might 
do the same, but there would be a doubt. His answer 
would probably be, “A stranger!— How comes a stranger 
here at this late hour, tell him we do not admit persons 
into our house unless we know them.” Christian reader, 
this is one strong reason why you should admit them, 
because you do not know them. The catholics are much 
more humble in their demeanour, and certainly much 
more hospitable and obliging in all respects, as a people. 
They are more self-denying, will sacrifice their own com¬ 
forts for the afflicted, more readily they will attend their 
places of worship, clothed or unclothed, and beggars take 
as high a place often in the chapel, as the rich man ; 
the “gold ring and costly apparel,” is not honoured here, 
as in the protestant and dissenting churches; and it is 
remarked that when any turn to the protestant faith, 
they never lose that condescension, nor put on those 
pretences of worldly respectability, as their protestant 
brethren do. 

This is the impartial candid last look that I take of 
the oidward manifestations of religion in that miserable 
country, and any and all are challenged to contradict its 
reality as a whole, until the test has been made as long, 
and in the same way, in a famine and out of one, walking 
and riding, with money and without, in castle and 
cabin, in bog and in glen, by land and by water, in 
church and in chapel, with rector, curate, and priest, in 
markets and fairs, cattle-shows and flower-shows, in every 
position that they have been placed for the last six years, 
not excepting O’Connell’s agitation, and Smith O’Brien’s 
rebellion, O’Connell’s imprisonment, and O’Briens 
banishment, and can only say, if wrong deductions have 
been made, may they be forgiven and corrected. 

A little for the Belief Officers at parting. To those 
who have been entrusted with money for the poor, and 
have been bountifully paid for the care of the loan put in 


OF IRELAND. 


439 


your hands, if you have done by the starving poor, as 
you would that they should do unto you in like circum¬ 
stances—if you have given the same quality and quantity 
of bread, that you should be willing to receive and eat— 
if you have never sent a starving one empty away, when 
you had it by you, because ease would be disturbed—if 
dinners and toasts have not drained any money that 
belonged to the poor, then “ well done good and faithful 
servant;” and if you have may you be forgiven, and 
never be left “ to feel the hunger.” My lot was to be 
once in a house where a sumptuous feast was held 
among this class of labourers, and that was in the midst 
of desolation and death. They “tarried, to speak most 
modestly, a little too long at the wine” that night, and 
drank toasts, which if they honoured the Queen, did 
little credit to men in their station, and in their res¬ 
ponsible work. But I have seen and handled the “ black 
bread” for months, and have told the story. 1 have seen 
many sent from the relief, on days of giving it out, 
without a mouthful, and have not a doubt but many 
died in consequence of this, when they should and might 
have been fed. Time will not allow of dwelling on 
these cases; but one which was vividly impressed, and 
particularly marked at the time, may serve as a speci¬ 
men. Going out one cold day in a bleak waste on the 
coast, I met a pitiful old man in hunger and tatters, with 
a child on his back, almost entirely naked, and to 
appearance in the last stages of starvation; whether his 
naked legs had been scratched, or whether the cold had 
affected them I knew not, but the blood was in small 
streams in different places, and the sight was a horrid 
one. The old man was interrogated, why he took such 
an object into sight, upon the street, when he answered 
that he lived seven miles off, and was afraid the child 
would die in the cabin, with two little children he had 
left starving, and he had come to get the bit of meal, as 
it was the day he heard that the relief was giving out. 
The officer told him he had not time to enter his name 
on the book, and he was sent away in that condition ; 
a penny or two was given him, for which he expressed 


440 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


the greatest gratitude; this was on Wednesday or Thurs¬ 
day. The case was mentioned to the officer, and he en¬ 
treated not to send such objects away, especially when 
the distance was so great. 

The next Saturday, on my way from the house where 
the relieving-officer was stationed, we saw an old man 
creeping slowly in a bending posture upon the road, and 
the boy was requested to stop the car. The old man 
looked up and recognised me. It was he who had the 
child upon his back in the dreadful state. I did not 
know him, but his overwhelming thanks for the little 
that was given him that day, called to mind the circum¬ 
stance ; and, inquiring where the child was, he said 
the three were left in the cabin, and had not taken a 
“ sup nor a bit” since yesterday morning, and he was 
afraid some of them would be dead upon the hearth when 
he returned. The relieving-officer had told him to come 
on Saturday, and his name should be on the book, he 
had waited without scarcely eating a mouthful till then, 
and was so weak he could not carry the child, and had 
crept the seven miles to get the meal, and was sent away 
with a promise to wait till the next Tuesday, and come 
and have his name on the books. This poor man had 
not a penny nor a mouthful of food, and he said tremu¬ 
lously, “ I must go home and die on the hairth with 
the hungry ones.” The mother had starved to death. 
He was given money to purchase seven pounds of meal; 
he clasped his old emaciated hands, first fell upon 
his knees, looked up to heaven and thanked the good 
God, then me, when the boy was so struck with his 
glaring eyes, and painful looks, that he turned aside, 
and said, “ let us get away.” The old man kept on his 
knees, walking on them, pausing and looking up to 
heaven ; and thinking myself that seven pounds would 
not keep four scarcely in existence till Tuesday, we 
stopped till he came upon his knees to the car ; he was 
given money enough to purchase seven pounds more ; 
when, for a few moments, I feared that he would 
die on the path. His age, exhaustion by hunger, and 
the feelings of a father, together with the sudden change, 


OF IRELAND. 


441 


from despair to hope, all were so powerful, that with his 
hands clasped, clinching the pennies, and standing upon 
his knees, he fell upon his face, and for some time re¬ 
mained there; he was finally restored to his knees, and 
the last glimpse we had of this picture of living death, 
he was behind us on the path, descending a hill upon 
his knees. What his future destiny was I never knew; 
but the Relieving Officer expressed no feelings of com¬ 
punction when told of it some time after, nor did he 
know whether he had applied again. If he died, what 
then ? was the answer. This solitary case is only a 
specimen of, to say the least, hundreds , who might have 
been saved, had these stewards applied the funds where 
most needed. Those who were obliged to walk miles, 
and lie out over night often upon the highway-side, were 
sent back to come again, while those who lived nearest, 
had the most strength, and could clamour the loudest 
for their rights, were soonest supplied. This Relieving 
Officer was an Irishman, and though among some of 
these there was great compassion and long continued, 
yet as a whole the English were much more so ; and had 
they, without being advised or influenced in the least by 
the Irish landlords and Irish Relieving Officers, taken 
their own course, much better management of funds and 
better management for the suffering would have followed. 
The English were unused to such sights as Ireland in 
her best times presents, besides they never had oppressed 
these poor ones, while the rich powerful Irish, like our 
slaveholders in the United States, had long held them 
writhing in their grasp, some of them beside had been 
too lavish, their means for sporting and pleasure were 
lessening, and why not take their share of what they 
wanted, while it was in their hands? The English 
officers, entirely unacquainted even with the location of 
distressed districts, till, for the first time, their eyes were 
saluted with these frightful sights, would certainly be 
led to apply means, when and where more experienced 
ones should direct. The Irish landlords too, had another 
strong temptation. They had many comfortable farmers, 
who, till the famine, had not only paid them good rent, 


442 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


but had turned the worst soil into beautiful fields. They 
must either abide on the land and pay less rent, or none 
at all, till the famine ceased, or they must emigrate. 
Now a few hundred pounds would keep these tenants on 
their feet, and pay the landlord. And if these landlords 
had not before been influenced by the grace of God to do 
justice, it cannot be expected in this peculiar crisis they 
should suddenly be transformed to act so against their 
own worldly good. Who would trust a dog with his dinner 
if the dog be hungry % These are not random strokes made 
to finish a book, nor to gratify a splenetic sourness— 
particular prejudices have not been the spring of motion 
in this work ; but being flung into all and every position 
how could I but see all and every thing that fell in my 
way ? In the worst districts my tarry was generally the 
longest, and in some cases I literally carried out the 
precept “ Into whatever house ye enter there abide and 
thence depart,” where the most information could be 
gained, and the family who invited me were able to 
supply all needful things, and had urged the visit, how¬ 
ever protracted it might be ; and in the face and eyes of 
all sincerity on their part, they had been taken at their 
word, and though the blarney grew thinner and weaker, 
yet I had long since accustomed my palate to bread 
without butter or honey, and potatoes without gravy or 
salt. This was not always done with the best grace, 
but it was a part of the self-denying work allotted me 
when my means for giving to the dying had been nearly 
exhausted h Why should I take what was actually mine 
and pay for lodgings when invited to accept them, where 
there was “ straw and provender” sufficient, and when 
too, it was offered so kindly, and this money could ad¬ 
vance a better interest. 

In saying farewell to all I have seen and done, I am 
not expecting to be fully understood; party politicians, 
sectarian professors of religion, pleasure-seeking world¬ 
lings, and such as love to be called by men, “ Rabbi,” 
cannot understand, and how can they be lenient even if 
they forgive ; and my only request is, that the Master 
who sent me may not at last frown upon my puny 


OF IRELAND. 


443 


endeavours for the good of suffering Ireland, and of that 
country I candidly and fearlessly give my Jirm unwavering 
testimony, that with all her imperfections , she deserves 
more pity than blame, and that in despite of all her 
smugglings, for centuries, barely to breathe, there yet 
remains in her enough valuable material, if brought out, 
and rightly manufactured, to make her, if not the 
brightest gem, yet as bright as any that sparkles in the 
ocean. She possesses an ingredient in her composition, 
beyond all other nations—an elasticity of such strength, 
that however weighty the depressing power may be, she 
returns to her level with greater velocity than any 
people whatever, when the force is removed. 

Then arise to her help ; let every protestant and dis¬ 
senter put on the whole armour; let them together cast 
their tithes and regium donums “ to the moles and to the 
bats,” and stand out in the whole panoply of the gospel ; 
then indeed will they appear “ terrible as an army with 
banners/’ let their worldly respectability be laid aside 
for the “ honour that comes from God,” and let them do 
as Christ did, “ condescend to men of low estate.” Who 
can tell if the professed church of Christ of all denomi¬ 
nations should do her first work there, but that a loop¬ 
hole would be made, through which government might 
look beyond the dark cloud that has covered her reign 
over that island, and joyfully say u Live, for I have found a 
ransom !” For though government now holds the church 
in her hands, could she do so if the church was moved 
by an Almighty power 1 God now suffers , but does he 
propel ? Is not the machinery of the church there one 
of the “sought-out inventions,” which never emanated 
from the uprightness of God ? See to it, see to it, and 
then talk with success of the idolatries of popery. 

The dark night had come, my trunk was packed, and 
the vessel was in readiness that was to bear me away. 
When I entered that pretty isle in June, 1844, all was 
green and sunny without, water, earth, and sky all united 
to say this is indeed a pleasant spot, but ivhy I had come 
to it I knew not, and what was my work had not been 
told me ; step by step the voice had been “ onward,” 


444 


LIGHTS AND SHADES 


C /6 

A S 3 * 

\Jp j 

trust and obey — obey and trust. The ground had been^ 
traversed, and in tempest and darkness my way w r as made 
to the packet, on the Liffey, with one solitary Quaker, 
who was compelled to hurry me among the tumul¬ 
tuous crowd without time to say “ Farewell.” A few 
friends had assembled to meet me there, who had long 
been tried ones from the beginning, but so great was the 
crowd, and so dark was the night, that they found me 
not. 

The spires of Dublin could not be seen, 1 and I was 
glad —I was glad that no warm hands could greet me ; 
and above all and over all, I was glad that the poor could 
not find me ; for them I had laboured, and their blessing 
was mine, that was a rich reward ; and when my heart 
shall cease to feel for their sufferings may my “ tongue 
cleave to the roof of my mouth.” 

“they that sow in tears shall reap in joy.” 

“ Sow thy seed, there is need, never be w'eary, 

Morning and evening withhold not thine hand ; 

By the side of all waters let faith and hope cheer thee, 

Where the blessing may rest is not thine to command. 

“ Do thy best, leave the rest, while the day serveth— 

Night will assuredly overtake noon ; 

Work with thy brother, while he thine arm nerveth, 

Without him, or for him, if holding back soon. 

“ As the grain, oft in pain, doubt, care, and sadness, 

The husbandman needs must commit to the soil, 

Long to struggle with darkness and death, if in gladness 
He may hope e’er to reap the new harvest from toil. 

“ Sow thy seed, there is need, never mind sorrow, 

Disappointment is not what it seems to thee now ; 

Tears, if but touched by one heavenly ray, borrow 
A glory that spans all,—the bright promised bow!” 


Richard Barrett, Printer, 13, Mark Lane, London. 

















































































































































